Quantum
by Sincere Nonsense
Summary: They always told Jazz he was brilliant, that he'd grow up to do great things, that he could be whatever he wanted. But after blowing his chance at a decent education, he's not so sure about that. He's tired of failing to meet everyone's expectations, and following the rules just isn't his style. Why should he try to be good when he's already proven he doesn't have what it takes?
1. Invitations

Hey! There's a few things you should know about this story before you read it.

1\. This story stands on its own fairly well, although you'll understand the context better if you've read at least until chapter 27 of Many Voices.

2\. During the course of this story, our dear protagonist is going to make some choices and do some things that range from morally gray all the way to outright wrong. I hope that I have been able to portray that accurately, and that Jazz's poor decisions come across as realistic, but not acceptable or justified.

3\. That said, you probably won't be surprised to hear that this story will be a little darker and contain more violence than my other stories so far. Fair warning.

4\. I'll try to update every week, but I'm a busy college student and I do have other stories I'm working on, so I make no promises.

* * *

The streets of Polyhex 4 were dark and this part of the sector was eerily quiet. Jazz couldn't help but feel out of place among the smog and the towering, silent buildings. This close to the central sector should have been full of light and noise. In the on-cycle, these streets were crowded and lively.

Something about this place was wrong.

He skidded to a stop once he'd reached the coordinates he'd been given, and transformed back to root mode. He was about ready to either comm. someone or leave when he heard voices off to his left. He crept toward them cautiously, but it was only his friends.

"You think they couldn't get away?" Sideswipe asked.

"No," Blackangle said. "Jazz might have wimped out, but Stonethrow should be here. His creators didn't even _come_ to graduation."

"Hey," Jazz swung around the corner, startling them.

"Oh, hi," Blackangle said, recovering quickly. "We almost thought you wouldn't show."

"Yeah," Jazz said flatly. "I heard. When have I ever wimped out?"

The other three looked at each other.

"I dunno," Sideswipe said. "Sometimes it seems like you _want_ to."

Jazz shook his helm. "You mechs know what we're doing here? Cuz I don't like this place." Sunstreaker met his optics for a moment, and Jazz could tell the yellow twin agreed with him.

"No," Blackangle said. "Stonethrow's the one who said to meet here."

Silence fell as they waited.

One breem, two breems, ten breems.

"Ok, this is ridiculous. Somemech comm. him," Blackangle said.

Sideswipe put a finger to his audio receptor. "Stonethrow… Stonethrow, come in. Where the pit are you? Stones?" Sideswipe frowned. "What…hey!"

"What?" Blackangle asked.

"I got him for an astrosecond," Sideswipe said. "He says he's going to be a few breems. He'll meet us south of our position."

"South?" Blackangle said. "How far south?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "He didn't say."

Blackangle heaved a sigh. "Oh well, let's just go. If he can't find us then it's his own fault."

They started walking south, in the direction of Polyhex Central, and deeper into the labyrinth of alleys and darkness. Eventually the road ended in a T that branched off into two narrow alleyways.

"Where _are_ we?" Sideswipe asked as they stopped in the silent intersection.

"Not sure," Blackangle said. "Stones said to go south."

"This whole thing is kind of fishy," Sideswipe said. "Not sure what that lunatic thinks he's trying to get us into."

Jazz heard something behind them and turned. The others followed his gaze.

"What is it?" Blackangle asked.

"Nothin'" Jazz couldn't shake the feeling somemech was watching them. Something was closing in on them.

"Jumpy this orn," Blackangle noted.

"Gotta bad feelin' is all," Jazz said.

"Don't think we should go back, do you?" Sideswipe asked with a grin, daring Jazz to back out.

"Said I got a bad feeling, not that I wanna go home," Jazz said. "Besides, weren't ya just complaining about Stones and his bad ideas?"

Blackangle looked at Jazz thoughtfully. He almost seemed to agree that something wasn't right here.

"Wazzap!" someone jumped out from around the nearest corner. Jazz jumped and Blackangle stumbled backward. Even the twins started.

"Stonethrow!" Blackangle said. "What the frag!"

"You mechs made it!" Stonethrow grinned.

"What's going on, Stones?" Blackangle said.

"You'll see," Stonethrow replied. "You'll see. This is going to be awesome!"

Jazz really didn't like the way he'd said that. He didn't trust Stonethrow's definition of awesome.

"Come on, mechs," Stones said. "We're adults now. We're done with secondary school! How crazy is that? We can do whatever we want! No more teachers! No more homework!"

"Yeah," Sunstreaker crossed his arms. "We can do whatever _we_ want, Stonethrow. That doesn't mean we're doing whatever _you_ want."

"s'matter?" Stonethrow said, looking slightly offended.

"We've been waiting and wandering around this Primus-forsaken place for half a joor on your whim," Blackangle said. "Now what the frag are we doing here? This had better not be some sort of joke."

"Don't worry," Stones said with a grin. "Come on."

Stonethrow was usually terrible at keeping secrets. Jazz felt even more uneasy as he followed the other mech down the dark alley he'd come from. Stonethrow certainly didn't seem to pick up on the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. One orn, he was going to get himself killed, Jazz was sure of it.

Jazz again felt like something was closing in on him. It was too quiet. Where was Stones taking them?

"If you get us arrested again, I'll kill you, Stones," Blackangle said.

"Don't worry about it."

"Hey, mechs," An unfamiliar voice said from the darkness. "You lost?"

Jazz saw a pair of red-purple optics come around some corner and then turned and saw another two pair behind. He made ready to fight as they were backed into an intersection and cut off from all directions. He and Blackangle stood back to back alongside the twins, who were also facing away from each other. At one point, they'd gotten cornered in an alley by a group of mecha who wanted their money. They'd made it out in much better shape than their adversaries, but there had only been three mechs that time, and now Jazz counted seven.

"This is Quantum territory," the mech at the lead said. "So I ask again, are you lost?"

Jazz's energon ran cold. He had heard of that before, somewhere. He didn't know much, but it was some sort of organization—something you heard about on the news in the context of violence and theft and disappearances.

"Poor, lost little mechs," another said, with barely contained, mad hilarity that sent a shiver up Jazz's spine.

"We're sorry," Blackangle said, with just enough sarcasm in his voice to hide his fear. "Mind helping a mech out and pointing us back to civilization?"

They laughed, except for the mech who seemed to be in charge. He just raised an optic ridge and waited for the others to calm down. "Well," he said. "Doesn't this young mech have some _nerve._ " A grin spread across his faceplate. "Branch, you got some good ones this time."

Branch?

Jazz turned to his left as a mech he recognized stepped forward.

"Evening," Branchbinder said. "Stones was kind of worried you wouldn't show up."

All the mecha around them relaxed and stepped back, looking amused. The tension in the atmosphere dissipated as Branchbinder laughed. "You four looked about ready to pass out," he said. "Stonethrow didn't warn you, did he?"

"No," Blackangle said. "What's going on?"

"It's an invitation," Branchbinder spread his arms wide.

"To what?" Blackangle asked, narrowing his optics.

"Chill, Blackie," Jazz said, stepping forward. " _This_ is what ya were talking about last time I saw you—whenever that was—isn't it?"

"Indeed," Branchbinder said. "It is. I'm surprised you remember that. In any case, you five are being offered a chance not everymech gets."

The twins looked at each other, and Blackangle frowned.

"Don't pull back now," Stones said. "We've got it _made_ if we join Quantum."

"What if we don't want to take you up on that offer?" Blackangle asked.

"Then you're free to go," Branchbinder said. "Not sure what the five of you will do on your own, though. Surely you little criminals don't plan to all go out and get honest jobs now, do you?"

Silence fell.

"Thought not," Branchbinder said. "But you can go if you want to. I warn you, this is a one-time offer. You're in or you're out. Either way's permanent. You're in, you got to stick with us. You're out, you'll never hear from us again."

"Well, I'm in," Stonethrow said.

The twins looked at each other for a moment, then at Branch. Sideswipe put an arm over Sunstreaker's shoulder. "What else are we doing with our lives? We're in."

Sunstreaker pushed Sideswipe away. "Sure."

Jazz looked at Blackangle. His friend's expression was thoughtful, calculating. Jazz knew what his answer would be before he put it to words.

"I'm in too," he said with a half-smile. "This sounds like my kind of scene."

Jazz couldn't believe this was happening. Branchbinder nodded and turned to look at him. There was something almost desperate behind the tall mech's optics. "What about you?"

* * *

-One Vorn Ago-

* * *

"Hey! Mech in the back row. Get your pedes off your desk."

Jazz didn't move.

He heard the teacher's footsteps coming closer and sighed, but didn't un-shutter his optics. "Seventy-nine point six five eight vorns."

The footsteps stopped. "Excuse me?"

"Were ya gonna ask me to answer the question on the board? Or was there something else?"

It was a dangerous game, messing with teachers like this—some of them got pretty touchy when their authority was questioned. They also thought they were all-knowing. It irked them that a student who didn't seem to be listening knew all the answers.

Of course, the reason Jazz knew all the answers was because the questions were processor-numbingly easy. He hadn't thought he'd miss all the hard work of the school in Kalis, but this was ten times worse. There was nothing interesting at all to do besides play this game. If he pushed it too far, the teachers sent him home with notes for Vibes to read and sign, and then she could be even more disappointed in Jazz than she already was.

It was this friendly little cycle. Get bored, get in trouble, disappoint his femme creator, then try to be good and get bored again. Hacking the school's security monitors wasn't even interesting, because anyone could do it and no one cared.

Polyhex was a great metropolis of a city-state, and this was sector 4, which bordered Polyhex Central. There was no reason their education should be so bad. He wished Vibes hadn't moved while he was away in Kalis—he had at least had some friends back in Polyhex 17.

"Get your pedes off the desk," the teacher repeated.

Jazz complied, but didn't sit up.

"And pay attention."

Jazz smiled. "Ok," he said. He didn't need to pay attention. He already knew everything this teacher was going to say for the rest of the term.

The rest of secondary school was going to be pit.

And it was his own fault that he'd been expelled. He hadn't known Motormaster was going to pull that knife, but he had just stood and watched until it was almost too late. And he _had_ been trying to blackmail the victim, and had stolen from him, and had helped another friend steal as well. With that sort of a record, you couldn't get into any good schools.

And so he was stuck in this pit of a place where the only honors classes were history and Cybertronian language, and there wasn't a single teacher who knew as much about technology or science as he did. He hadn't made any friends yet either—not that he had tried very hard.

"I said sit up straight and pay attention!" the teacher insisted. By this point the rest of the class was silent, and the teacher sounded like he was standing right over Jazz, who still hadn't un-shuttered his optics.

"If I ain't paying attention, how did I get the right answer?"

There were a couple of hushed giggles, but for the most part, the room was dead silent.

"Don't you talk back to me," the teacher said.

Jazz shrugged. "But ya asked me a question."

"Sit up! I have had enough of this!"

He sounded like he was pretty close to dragging Jazz from his chair and throwing him out of the room.

That might be interesting. He imagined the whole class watching as he ducked out of the way and knocked the teacher to the ground… but… that could get him into a lot of trouble.

"You think just because they kicked you out of your fancy private school, you can come in here and be disrespectful..."

And in any case, it would be wrong. Jazz finally un-shuttered his optics and looked down at his crossed arms. Yoketron wouldn't approve of him humiliating a teacher in front of the class.

"Look at me!"

Jazz looked up. "Sorry, mech, what'd you say? I wasn't listening."

"Get out! Get out of my classroom!" He jabbed one finger in the direction of the door.

The bell rang.

Jazz smirked, and waited. Then someone else stood up, and the whole room followed suit. Jazz stretched lazily and got out of his chair. The teacher turned around and stomped back toward the front of the room, fuming. Jazz had won this round, sort of. And then if he got home to hear that Vibes had been contacted about his misbehavior, he would lose. You didn't win when Vibes was mad at you.

He walked through the halls. They had a free joor now. Jazz would grab some energon and find somewhere secluded to hang out until his next class started.

"Hey, mech."

He didn't realize the other student was talking to him until someone bumped into him from the side.

"Hey."

Jazz glanced over.

The black and green mech walking next to him smiled. "That was pretty good timing back there."

Jazz shrugged. "I try."

"He even forgot to assign us homework."

"Ya're welcome."

"I'm Blackangle, by the way. What's your designation?"

"Jazz."

Jazz usually kept to himself. He'd sort of tried to make friends at first, but it had felt so fake. Make friends, pretend he was normal, pretend he cared about the things that they cared about. There was really no point to it.

This mech would probably give up in a few breems—a few orns if he was persistent. Jazz knew about Blackangle, anyway. He was one of the fledglings who was always getting caught stealing things or fighting or cheating. Just exactly the sort of friend Jazz knew he shouldn't make.

"So, uh…"

"Look," Jazz said. "I'm not real friendly, ya know? I'm glad somemech appreciates my ability to make teachers spit fire at me, but that don't mean I wanna talk to ya."

Blackangle seemed surprised for half an astrosecond, but then he shrugged. "Not real friendly myself. I get that. You ever want to come sit at my table in the energon hall, though, you're welcome."

Jazz considered the offer. It had been casually made, but was a solid and standing invitation to join Blackangle's group of friends. Very well done; even better than Verdict could have said it.

Of course, Jazz wasn't about to go sit with Blackangle's friends. He didn't want friends and he didn't deserve them, and besides none of the other students at this school knew anything about anything. Even if Jazz wanted to, he probably couldn't have an intelligent conversation with any of them.

Then again, it had been so long since he'd had _any_ kind of conversation with someone who wasn't mad at him…

He and Blackangle walked silently next to each other to the energon hall. They walked to the energon dispenser together. Then Blackangle went off to his table in the corner of the room, and Jazz hesitated. He found he suddenly did want to join them.

Pride warred with his desperate need to have a real conversation with someone—someone who wasn't either angry at him or disappointed with him.

He stood by the side of the room, watching as Blackangle's friends showed up. He knew just from listening to other students talk that the red and yellow mech were split-spark twins. And the orange and gray one was known for his scuffed paint and inability to sit still.

They were different from Verdict's gang. These mecha were the outsiders. For the most part, they stuck together because no one else wanted to be around them.

And Jazz was already one of them, wasn't he?

He pushed off the wall and crossed the room to sit down at their table.

* * *

-The Present-

They were all looking at him in the too-quiet alleyway. Did he want to do this? He wasn't sure. But this was a one-time offer, and backing out now would make him look like a coward.

"I didn't peg you as the type to walk away from this," Branchbinder said. "But there's not room in our brotherhood for mecha who are afraid. Go drive home if you like."

"I didn't say I was afraid," Jazz glared. "I was thinking about it. What's in this for us?"

"It pays pretty well," Branchbinder said. "And we look out for each other."

"What do you _do_ though?"

"What do you think?" Branchbinder asked, expression darkening. "Look, we don't have time for this. If you don't want in, you can go waste your talent in a factory or as a scrap collector."

Jazz frowned. "A scrap collector?"

"Mechling, you can't get a good job anywhere legitimate, not with _your_ record. But if you don't think you're good enough to play this game in the real—"

"Fine," Jazz said. "I'm in."


	2. The Wrong Crowd

"Well," Branchbinder's lip plates split into what looked like a genuine smile. "I'm glad that's settled then. Let's get the five of you initiated and assigned before the off-cycle is over."

They moved, as a group, down one of the alleys.

The other mecha seemed reasonably friendly now, but they still flanked Jazz and his friends cutting off any possible escape.

Jazz told himself to stop being paranoid.

Every once in a while, they would pass by other mechs, and the one at the head of their group would silently wave a greeting. Jazz noticed that each of them had the same faintly glowing word welded on their arm, shoulder, or chest. The glyphs were stylized, and difficult to decipher, but after watching for a while, he figured out that they read Quantum.

After several breems, there was light and noise ahead. Then they came out into the open. A building stood in front of them, glowing red and purple and blue against the surrounding blackness. The light was dim, but almost blinding against the dark structures around it.

They all stopped in front of the doors. Jazz could hear some faint, pounding music coming from somewhere inside.

Branchbinder, who had eventually taken the lead, turned around to face the rest of them. "Welcome to headquarters," he said, and opened the door with a flourish.

* * *

-One Vorn Ago-

* * *

"So," Blackangle said. "You got kicked out of your old school, right?"

Jazz shrugged. He knew there were rumors, but he didn't really feel like sharing. He liked having friends, but he still didn't really trust these mechs. It was fun to hang out with them after school—to play hoverball or lobbing, or wander around the city. But they all seemed to have secrets and things they didn't want to talk about.

"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "Didn't you, like, kill someone?"

Jazz shook his helm, smiling slightly. "Mech, if I'd killed someone, don't ya think I'd be in a detention center?"

"So what did you do?" Blackangle said.

"Lots of stuff," Jazz said. "I mean, I messed with the cameras, and got inta the computer system ta boost my friends' grades once in a while. Course, they never caught me doing any of that. I got expelled cuz my friends and I had this rivalry with some other mechlings, and it got outta hand."

"Out of hand as in someone died?" Sideswipe prompted.

Jazz shook his helm. "Mech, no one killed anyone."

Stonethrow leaned forward, optics shining. "Can you teach me how to get into the computer system and change my grades?" he said. "That would be so cool."

Jazz shook his helm again.

"Hey," Sideswipe said. "Actually, that would be awesome. You think you could make the system think I've done all my homework?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "If I wanted."

Sideswipe must have sensed Jazz's hesitance. "You're just making that up. Bet you can't do it."

"How much ya wanna bet?" Jazz asked.

"So no one died," Blackangle said. "But I'm curious now. What happened?"

Jazz sighed. "This other fledgling got one of my friends expelled. So I kidnapped his symbiot, and then one of my friends beat him up." He still remembered that moment he'd realized Motormaster wasn't going to stop—that moment when his friend had pulled the knife out of subspace—that moment when someone almost _had_ died. "We kinda deserved what we got, I mean..."

"Yeah," Blackangle said. "That'd get you kicked out for sure,"

"Yeah," Jazz said, a little grateful that no one seemed shocked by that.

These mecha weren't bullies like Verdict, but the twins got in fights somewhat frequently, and pretty much everyone knew to stay out of Sunstreaker's way, because just looking at him wrong could send him into a sort of berserker rage that only Sideswipe could talk him down from.

Blackangle was dangerous too, in a more subtle way. Jazz hadn't quite figured him out yet. He lived in a great big mansion in a nicer part of town, but when Jazz had asked about his creators, the other fledgling had just glared at him and refused to talk to him for the rest of the orn.

Stonethrow was wild and disruptive, and overly-excited about everything. He was also clumsy, and was always covered in dents and scratches. You never knew what he was going to do next.

"So…" Sideswipe said. "I don't really have any credit. But I've got a whole bunch of games and junk. If you fix my grades, I'll let you look through it and take something."

"Mech," Jazz said. "I'm not gonna…"

"Unless you _can't_ ," Sideswipe said.

"Leave him alone," Blackangle said. "He doesn't want your scrap."

Stonethrow laughed.

"He can have all of it," Sunstreaker muttered. "It's a fragging mess."

Silence fell.

"So," Blackangle said. "You're good at hacking and stuff then?"

"I guess," Jazz said. "I mean, I haven't come across anything I couldn't get into yet."

"Cool," Blackangle said. "Is it just computer systems, or can you hack locks too?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"It's just…"

"Here we go," Sideswipe said, rolling his optics. "Look, if he can't even change my grades, he's not going to be able to get into that scrapyard."

"Why would ya want ta get inta a scrapyard?" Jazz said. "That's creepy."

"It's not a normal scrapyard. They don't just keep offline mecha there," Blackangle said. "They store stuff, like chemicals, and different kinds of metal. You can find all sorts of scrap—and some of it sells pretty well on the black market."

Jazz looked down. He could feel Blackangle watching him—he felt like this was some sort of test. He met the other mech's optics. "Look, I don't know if…"

"It's not stealing if nomech wants it," Blackangle said.

"How would ya even _sell_ anything on the black market?" Jazz said.

"I know mecha," Blackangle said, and glanced to the side with a small smirk.

Jazz frowned.

"Hey, Jazz?"

"Yeah?"

"Forget about it. It's ok."

"I ain't gonna help ya steal anything."

Blackangle shook his helm. "I told you it's fine." He didn't sound happy. "And I told you, it's not stealing if it's already been thrown away. Look, if you can't do it, then you can't do it. It's fine." He downed his energon and got up. "See you mechs later."

Jazz somehow missed meeting up with the group after school. He wasn't really surprised that they'd left without him.

He walked home instead, feeling vaguely gloomy. He supposed he couldn't really _judge_ Blackangle for what he wanted to do—not when Jazz had participated in his fair share of misbehavior. It wasn't like the mech was going to hurt anyone.

And it would be an interesting challenge. He pulled his beat-up datapad out of subspace and accessed the public databases as he walked, trying to find the scrapyard Blackangle had been talking about. There were a couple that seemed likely—places with high fences and lots of security.

When he got home, he let himself in and headed for his room. Vibes wouldn't be back for several joors, so…

"Jazz, sparklin'?"

Jazz froze with his finger hovering over the button that would open the door to his room.

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

"I have… homework," Jazz opened his door and slipped into his room. He collapsed onto his berth and stared up at the ceiling, then pulled his datapad out. He could play some mindless game for a few joors.

He didn't look up as Vibes came in, arms crossed. "Hey, sparklin'," she said with a sort of soft concern that didn't quite cover up the disappointment.

He glanced up, then back down.

"Jazz."

"Yeah?"

He waited for her to snap at him. He wasn't disappointed.

"I ain't putting up with your scrap, put the datapad down and talk ta me."

He tossed the datapad off to the side and sat up. "About what?"

"About school," Vibes said. "Do ya know what your grade is in history?"

"Look" Jazz said. "It's not like it matters. School is stupid anyway…"

"I don't care 'bout school being stupid," Vibes said. "I care 'bout ya doing your best work, and I know ya can do better."

Jazz shrugged.

"And I expect ya ta do better."

"Ok," Jazz said, looking at the wall, hoping she'd drop the subject.

"Look at me."

He glared at her. "I already know all of this scrap, it's a waste of time."

"Jazz." She was about to lose her patience. He could hear it in her voice.

"Just go away."

"Sparklin' I am tired of this argument!"

Jazz was too.

"I know ya're still upset about what happened in Kalis…"

"Don't talk about..."

"…but it don't mean ya can just give up!"

Jazz looked away again, glaring at the wall.

"Ya're better than this."

"Can ya just get out of my room?"

"Don't ya speak ta me like that," she snapped.

"Sorry."

Vibes took in a deep vent and sighed it out. "I'm not mad cuz… Look, I don't even care about the homework so much, I'm just worried. Ya gotta get outta this… whatever it is. At least make some friends or _something._ "

"I have friends," Jazz said.

Sort of. Maybe not anymore.

"Really?" Vibes said. "Ya haven't mentioned them before."

"Ya don't think I'm telling the truth?"

"Would ya lose the attitude, sparklin'? I didn't say that. Last time I asked, ya said ya didn't have any friends."

Jazz looked down.

She came in and sat at his desk. "That's great. Tell me about them."

Jazz shook his helm, and reached for his datapad. "Why ain't ya at work?"

"Cuz I got the rest of the orn off," Vibes said. "Come on, tell me about your friends."

"They ain't that exciting," Jazz said.

"Well, as long as they're better than those mechs you were following around at that school in Kalis."

"Ya say ya want me ta put that behind myself, but then ya keep bringing it up," Jazz said. "Just leave me alone."

She sat in silence for half a breem, then got up. "Ya know what, fine. I'm _tryin',_ Jazz. And when ya're ready ta start trying too, let me know."

She left the room, and Jazz lay back down.

Try? Try to what? To get good grades? To make good friends?

None of the other students would want to be friends with him, especially since he'd started hanging out with Blackangle and the others. And he didn't want to hang out with them. They were boring. Boring, stupid, uneducated…

Jazz could get good grades if he wanted. He could get perfect grades, but why the pit should he care? It wasn't like it was going to get him anywhere. He'd had one chance and he'd fragged it up and now he was out of chances, out of options.

And he couldn't even keep the friends he made. Maybe he should stop acting like he was better than them. He wasn't—if anything he was already worse.

* * *

Blackangle sat down in between Sideswipe and Jazz with a sigh.

"Hey," Jazz said.

Blackangle nodded.

"Ya know… I was thinking about that scrapyard…"

"Yeah?" Blackangle perked up a little.

"Well… I don't know if I'd be able ta get in, but there's no harm in trying, right? Like ya said, it's not really a big deal. I'm sorry I was so…"

"Nah," Blackangle said. "Don't worry about it. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to."

"So we're going?" Stonethrow said. "Really? We're really going? Can we do it this off-cycle?"

"No," Blackangle said. "I'm grounded. My creators caught me out past their stupid curfew last off-cycle." He set his cube of energon on the table and leaned back, crossing his arms. "They're sending one of my siblings to come pick me up after school and make sure I go straight home."

"That rusts," Sideswipe said. "I wanted a rematch on that lobbing game from last decaorn."

"It rusts for me more than it does for you," Blackangle said. "I'm the one who has to spend all decaorn locked up in my fragging room."

"We're gonna get in that scrapyard," Stonethrow grinned. "And we're gonna be rich!"

"Shut up," Blackangle hissed, glancing around. "I swear, Stones, you're going to get us all in trouble if you go around talking about it. Jazz."

"Yeah?" Jazz said.

"You sure you're up for that?"

"Like I said, I can only try. But I haven't come up against anything I couldn't hack, so…"

"Awesome," Blackangle said.

"So… you can bump up my grades?" Sideswipe said.

"Your creators will know you cheated," Blackangle said. "Don't you think?"

"Have you met my creators?" Sideswipe said. "They're fragging clueless. If I suddenly had perfect grades, they'd just be like 'wow, the school is finally recognizing how smart you are' or slag like that."

"At the very least, the teachers will know you cheated," Blackangle shook his helm.

"They ain't that smart," Jazz said. "Unless they pay specific attention ta every single student, they're not gonna notice a little adjustment here and there. I can't give ya perfect grades, but I can make them better. I don't see why it matters that much, though. In my school in Kalis, ya had ta keep your grades up or they kicked ya out, so there was a reason for it. Your creators gonna kick ya out of the house if ya get bad grades?"

The twins glanced at each other, as if they were actually considering that question.

"No," Sideswipe said at length. "I guess you're right."

"I can do it, though, if ya want," Jazz said.

"Nah, that's all right," Sideswipe said. "I don't need good grades. School is useless anyway. And besides, Sunny's going to be a rich and famous artist when we grow up, so I'll be rich by association."

"Oh, really?" Sunstreaker said, and went back to the sketch he was doing on his datapad.

"Yeah," Sideswipe said, then sighed. "But back to the issue at hand—I guess if you're grounded, we can't go to your house this orn, Blackie."

"Nope," Blackangle said.

"I know!" Stonethrow said. "Mechs, remember that time we snuck into that factory and…"

"Nope," Sunstreaker said, still not looking up from his drawing. "Here's an idea. How about we _don't_ do anything crazy and stupid?"

"That was pretty fun," Sideswipe admitted. "Until I broke my arm. But surely that wouldn't happen twice."

"We could just hang out and play video games for once," Sunstreaker said. "And not get in trouble."

"Whoa, since when did you care about getting in trouble?"

"It's inconvenient," Sunstreaker said.

Sideswipe heaved another sigh. "Fine, fine. You and your big words. We'll be boring and go play some super violent video game. Hey, you think we can sneak into Top Speed's stuff and borrow Energon Race?"

Sunstreaker hesitated, looking uncomfortable.

"Or not," Sideswipe said.

The yellow twin shook his helm. "He's not going to be home from work for a few joors. It should be fine. Let's do that."

* * *

Stonethrow ended up getting sent home early for something or other. He must have made one of the teachers really, really mad, because for the most part, they'd given up on trying to shut him up. So Jazz and the twins met up after school, and headed across the city.

Jazz hadn't actually been to the twins' house before. Normally we went to Blackangle's because it was big and his creators had a huge holoscreen and a ton of cool sports equipment.

The twins lived in an apartment that was only a little bigger than the one Jazz and Vibes lived in. It was better-kept, though, and in a nice, peaceful residential part of the sector.

Their femme creator was sitting in the front room. She looked up when the twins and Jazz came in.

"Hello Sideswipe, sweetspark. How was your orn?" she asked.

"Fine," Sideswipe said.

"What are you doing here so early?"

"Blackangle's grounded, so we thought we'd come here this time," Sideswipe said. "This is Jazz, by the way. Have you met him before?"

She shook her helm and smiled at him. "I don't think I have. Are you two in some of the same classes?"

"A few," Sideswipe said.

She smiled again. "Well, it's very nice to meet you. Sides, let me know if you need anything. Are you hungry?"

"Nope," Sideswipe said. "You know they give us energon at school."

"Ok, well you have fun with your friend."

Jazz followed the twins from the room, feeling distinctly uncomfortable but not quite sure why. They led him down a hall, and into a large room with two berths in it and an enormous gaming system that was older than the one Blackangle had, and not nearly as nice, but still impressive.

"I'll be back," Sideswipe said and ducked out the door while Jazz looked around. One side of the room was neat and organized and sparse, while the other half was piled high with datapads and remote control vehicles and board games and all sorts of things. It wasn't hard to guess whose side was whose, but Jazz couldn't help wondering why Sideswipe had so much more junk than Sunstreaker did. When Sides came back, he had a couple of game sticks with him. He plugged one into the machine and turned it on.

They spent several joors digitally blowing up digital organics, and fighting to the digital death in digital gladiator games. It was processor-numbing, but at least it made the time pass.

Then the twins' mech creator got home. Jazz heard the front door open, but didn't think much of it until the mech stuck his helm into the room.

"What in pit are you doing!" he demanded.

The twins and Jazz looked up.

"Oh slag," Sideswipe said quietly.

"How many times have I told you not to get into my games!" he said. He stormed in and yanked the game stick out of the computer. The screen went blank.

"Hey!" Sideswipe said.

"Hey what?" their mech creator shot him a glare. Sideswipe glared back, and Sunstreaker looked down with a stormy expression on his faceplate.

"Hey, you lost our progress." Sideswipe growled.

"Too fragging bad," their mech creator said. "Next time you steal one of these, I'm throwing your entertainment system out."

"But…"

"Shut up!" He kicked over a small tin of styluses that was sitting on the floor next to the wall. Sunstreaker flinched, but didn't say anything, and their mech creator turned his attention to the yellow twin. "What about you? You're being awfully quiet. I suppose this was your idea."

Sunstreaker finally looked up with boiling defiance in his optics.

"It was my idea," Sideswipe said.

"I told you to shut up," their mech creator said, pointing at Sideswipe, but not looking away from the yellow fledgling. "Maybe we should confiscate your paints for a decaorn and see if that helps you shape up."

"Don't touch my things," Sunstreaker said quietly.

"Don't touch mine!" their mech creator said, holding up the game stick.

"I. Didn't. Touch. It."

"You little liar. I caught you playing it."

"But I didn't _touch_ it."

"Are you trying to push blame off on your brother?"

"I'm telling the fragging truth," Sunstreaker growled. "And you know it, you glitch."

Their mech creator raised his hand and Sunstreaker flinched, turning his helm to the side. But the blow didn't fall. The twins' mech creator just grabbed Sunstreaker by the shoulder guard and dragged him to his pedes and out of the room. Sideswipe got up and followed, and Jazz did so as well, feeling like an intruder and wishing he was somewhere else.

Sunstreaker was towed through the front room. Their mech creator opened the door and threw him out so hard he hit the ground and rolled before getting to his knees with a grimace on his faceplate.

"If I see you around here in the next three orns, you can recharge in the backyard for the rest of your life. Go!"

Sunstreaker got to his pedes and walked away, helm held high.

"And you," their mech creator rounded on Sideswipe. "Are to stay in the house for the rest of the orn."

"Fine," Sideswipe said with a chilling cold in his voice. He stormed back to his room, and Jazz followed again, still feeling entirely out of place.

Sideswipe shut the door behind Jazz and locked it, then dug out a bunch of things under his berth and started moving everything from Sunstreaker's side of the room into the little cave he'd created.

Jazz wanted to ask what he was doing, but Sideswipe answered before he got up the courage. "They can't confiscate it if they can't find it. I'll put it back before Sunny comes home again."

Something about the tone of his voice let Jazz realize just how embarrassed he was about this whole thing. Imagine that. Sideswipe, embarrassed.

"Uh…" he said. "Sorry Jazz. I guess Top Speed's in a bad mood."

"'s ok," Jazz said.

"Sunny doesn't really get along with our creators," Sideswipe said quietly, sitting down on his berth. "It's not his fault, of course. We… I guess you've probably heard the story somewhere. We were all over the news for a while."

"Not really," Jazz said. "Ya know I moved here halfway through last term, right?"

"It was all over the headlines." Sideswipe made a broad, sweeping gesture with one arm. "Split-spark twins, tragically separated as sparklings by some horrible misunderstanding, finally reunited."

Jazz hadn't known they'd been separated as sparklings.

"It's slag," Sideswipe said. "My creators decided they only wanted one sparkling, so they kept me and put Sunny in an orphanage, just after we were sparked."

Jazz blinked. "…Pit…"

"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "I was the lucky one. It was two and a half vorns before we managed to find each other, and then our creators were forced to take him back in. It… hasn't been ideal, but it's better than before, you know."

Jazz nodded. "Pit…"

Uncomfortable silence stretched out for several astroseconds.

"So… what about you?" Sideswipe asked. "I've heard you mention your femme creator. You get along with her?"

"She's nice," Jazz said. "Nicer than I deserve, I guess."

"That's good," Sideswipe said.

More silence.

Jazz sighed and sat down on Sunstreaker's berth. "My mech creator though… he ain't around anymore,"

"Offline?"

"I don't know, probably not," Jazz said. Talking about it wasn't fun, but he figured after what he'd just witnessed, he owed it to Sideswipe to answer the question. "He left a little more than a vorn ago. I was a youngling, and Vibes don't like ta talk about it so I don't know everything, but I think there was another femme or something… I'm pretty sure Vibes was the one ta finally break the bond… but yeah. He left."

Sideswipe finished shoving Sunstreaker's things under his berth, then pushed up a wall of this own things to hide it. "That's rough," He said as he sat on his own berth. "Frag… that's just wrong."

"At least I've got Vibes, though."

Sideswipe nodded.

"Hey… is Sunny gonna be…"

"He'll be ok," Sideswipe said. "This happens once in a while. Once Top Speed and Seafoam are recharging, I'll sneak out and find him."

Jazz sighed. "It sounds like Blackangle's creators aren't that great either."

"Ha, yeah," Sideswipe said. "They're not. I mean… they aren't that bad, really, just way too demanding. Blackie can't stand them though, and he doesn't like to talk about them—I've been friends with him for almost a vorn, and _I_ don't even know the whole story of how he ended up hating them."

"Hmm," Jazz said.

"You want to know what they do for work?" Sideswipe grinned. "This'll blow your circuits."

"Yeah?" Jazz said.

"His mech creator's chief of enforcement for the entire sector."

Jazz stared.

"Yep."

"His creators are _enforcers_?"

"Bet you were expecting like gang bosses or something," Sideswipe said. "Nah. But you can see now why they don't see optic to optic."

Jazz shook his helm.

"He's got a bunch of siblings too, and all of them are enforcers. His creators just keep churning out perfect little clones of themselves. Except for Blackie. I don't think they know where they went wrong."

Jazz shook his helm.

"Stonethrow on the other hand…" Sideswipe said. "His creators are glitches. Ever wonder why his paint's always scratched? Why he's always covered in dents? He's not _that_ clumsy."

Jazz looked down at the floor and the distinct line between the two sides of this room.

"I kind of wondered what Blackie was doing at first, inviting you to hang out with us" Sideswipe said. "But you do kind of fit in after all."

"Life rusts," Jazz said.

"Yep."

"What'd we all do to deserve this?"

"Deserving doesn't make a difference," Sideswipe said.

How true that was.

* * *

Jazz lay on his berth, reading. He had done as much research on the security at the scrapyard as he could. He was pretty sure he'd be able to get past the lock and get the gate open. They normally had a guard on duty, but if they were careful, there wouldn't be a problem.

It was late in the off-cycle. Vibes was probably recharging by now. There was still time before he was going to meet up with the others, but he wanted to go now. He was a little nervous, but more than that he was excited.

This was going to be the first real challenge he'd had since kidnapping that cat. He didn't care about the scrapyard, or whatever Blackangle wanted from there. He just wanted to see if he could get in.

Careful to be quiet, he got up off his berth and crept through the apartment.

And then he was outside, under the stars and the moons. You couldn't see the stars really well, because the light that filtered up through the cracks in the streets caused too much glare, but it was still pretty. He liked the off-cycle better than the on-cycle. There was just something comforting about the darkness. And where there _was_ light, there were also mecha talking and laughing. There was something more _real_ about the off-cycle. Something that allowed you to be yourself.

Some mecha were scared to walk around at this time of the orn—especially in places like the inner sectors of Polyhex. Jazz wasn't worried, though. He was small, but he could fight. And was pretty sure he didn't look like he had anything to steal.

He was the first one to the scrapyard, so he wandered around, studying the fence, and the little building by the main gate.

They wouldn't have to go in that way. There was a smaller gate on the other side that wasn't guarded.

Stonethrow showed up next, looking excited and nervous, and then Blackangle. Finally, the twins emerged from the gloom.

"Ok," Blackangle said. "Jazz?"

"Follow me." Jazz led the way around the yard, to the smaller gate.

"Yessss," Stonethrow hissed, bouncing up and down slightly.

"We could get in so much trouble for this," Sideswipe said, with a gleam in his optics. "Slag, I don't even care about whatever you want to get from this place, this is just exciting."

Jazz agreed.

"Then I guess you don't mind if I keep all the credit for myself," Blackangle said.

"I didn't say _that_ ," Sideswipe said.

"Do ya even know what ya're looking for?" Jazz said, studying the lock.

"Yep," Blackangle said. "I'll show you, once we get in there."

Jazz shook his helm. He was here to see if he could pick the lock. He didn't need credit.

"What?" Blackangle said.

"Don't talk, I gotta concentrate."

It was a pretty complicated lock. After a few breems of trying to trick it into thinking he had permission to open the gate, he backed up a step and shuttered his optics, thinking.

"Come on," Stonethrow said. "Are you serious? You can't get it open?"

"Hey," Blackangle said. "It's not some secondary school computer system. This is a serious lock. It's not his fault if he can't—"

"Would ya all just fragging calm down?" Jazz said. "I'm thinking about it. It could take ten more breems."

Sideswipe sighed and sat down.

"We could try climbing the fence," Stonethrow said.

"It's energized," Blackangle said.

"Energized?" Sunstreaker crossed his arms. "Blackie, what do they _keep_ in this scrapyard?"

"Toxic chemicals," Jazz said. "Used industrial equipment, scrap like that. Don't step in anything funny-colored once we get in there, or ya could end up offline."

"Really?" Sideswipe said.

Jazz went back to working on the lock. "Yep. They keep offline mecha here too. Ones who didn't have anymech ta care what scrapyard they end up in."

"We are _not_ cutting up dead mecha for their parts," Sunstreaker said. "Blackie?"

"Of course we aren't," Blackangle said. "Why the pit would we do that?"

"Because I'm pretty sure you can sell things like optics and voice boxes on the black market," Sunstreaker said. "But that's not fragging worth it."

"Don't worry," Blackangle said. "That's disgusting, we're not doing that. We're mostly here for some chemicals."

The lock clicked and the gate slid to the side.

"Hey," Blackangle grinned. "Awesome. Jazz, you're a genius."

They slipped into the scrapyard. Piles of twisted, discarded metal rose high into the dark sky of the off-cycle, lit by moonlight from above, and by cracks in the ground beneath.

Stonethrow sprinted forward with a gleeful shout, and Blackangle chased after him, probably to try and shut him up. Sideswipe jogged ahead a little as well, but Sunstreaker fell back, looking around with an intense, interested expression.

Blackangle caught up to Stonethrow, and then they stopped and waited for the others.

"Ok," Blackangle said, pulling out a datapad. "Here's what we're looking for. We probably won't find anything in these piles of junk—this is just metal. We'll be looking for places where they're keeping old cans of stuff. Here's a list of the chemicals we're looking for."

He passed it to Jazz, who read it thoughtfully. "What do they do with them?" he asked.

"Slagged if I know," Blackangle said. "They're probably useful for making weapons, or maybe they're ingredients in some kinds of illegal energon additives."

Jazz passed the datapad to Stonethrow.

"That bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Nah," Jazz said. "I just think there's better ways ta make credit, Blackie."

Blackangle shrugged. "Probably."

Stonethrow passed on the datapad. The twins looked at it together, and then handed it back to Blackangle.

"Should we split up?" Sideswipe asked.

"Yes," Blackangle said. "Meet back here in half a joor, all right?"

"Got it," Sideswipe said.

They all went different ways, except for the twins, who stuck together. Jazz wandered through the darkness. He didn't like how quiet this place was, and how empty. He wasn't _scared_ exactly, but he also wasn't entirely comfortable. He wandered through the mounds of junk, and piles of factory equipment. He didn't really care if he found any of the things that Blackangle was looking for. Now that he'd gotten in and the challenge was over, he wasn't so sure about this. He could just imagine what Vibes would say if she knew where he was.

He kept going, though, past tangled piles of wires and rusted-out bits and pieces.

Then he came out into a more open part of the scrapyard where as far as he could see, a field of lifeless frames reflected the moonlight. A shiver ran through him, and he stopped, staring out over the dead.

He'd been in a nicer scrapyard once or twice, and it had always been kind of peaceful. This wasn't like that, though. The mecha weren't all lying in neat rows with pathways in between, and there were no roofs over them to keep the acid rain off. These mecha looked like they'd been dumped here in haphazard clusters.

Jazz took a deep vent and let it out slowly. The sickening smell of rust filled his olfactory sensors and he looked down.

Something moved behind him. He froze, then forced himself to relax, listening.

There was another sound, like someone walking quietly toward him from behind. He worried for a moment that it might be some corpse that had come back online, but there were much better explanations than that, so he waited, pretending he couldn't hear.

Something touched his shoulder, and he casually grabbed the mech's hand and flipped him over onto his back.

"Aaah! Hey!" Sideswipe said.

Jazz crossed his arms.

"You're no fun," Sideswipe sat up. "But, admittedly, that was cool."

Jazz held out a hand to help the other mech up. "Ya shouldn't try ta sneak up on mecha when it's really quiet."

"True," Sideswipe said. Jazz glanced over his shoulder to see Sunstreaker looking out over the graveyard.

"Hey, you find anything yet?"

"No."

"We haven't either. Except for some pretty cool pieces of pipe that are the right length to be swords."

"Nice," Jazz said, and they walked back toward where Sunstreaker was.

"We should get out of here," the yellow mech said. "This is stupid."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "Come on, let's head back."

They started walking back the way they'd come, toward the side of the scrapyard where the gate was open. Sunstreaker glanced over his shoulder at the field of the dead, and shook his helm.

They went around the corner and ran into Stonethrow, who'd been coming the other way.

"Hey," Sideswipe said.

"Mechs," Stonethrow whispered, leaning forward, optics wide. "You _have_ to come see this."

Jazz glanced at the twins, who looked at each other. Sunstreaker shrugged.

"Ok," Sideswipe said.

They followed Stonethrow off in a different direction, through piles of scrap. Jazz looked for whatever it was Stonethrow wanted to show him, but he couldn't see anything other than the usual piles of scrap.

And then they went around another corner.

"Whoa," Sideswipe said. "What _is_ that?"

Jazz stared up at the huge tangle of metal and wires. It crouched about the size of one of the piles of junk, like a giant symbiot with far too many legs.

"I don't know," Stonethrow said. "But it's fragging awesome."

"Yeah," Sideswipe jogged over to the base of it. It really did look like some sort of big, insectoid thing, but it had more than a hundred long many-jointed limbs. "You think it's alive?"

"Definitely not," Sunstreaker said.

"Cool. Race you to the top!" Sideswipe jumped up and started climbing it. Stonethrow followed suit. Jazz glanced at Sunstreaker, who shook his helm and started climbing as well, more carefully than his brother. Jazz wondered if this thing ever _had_ been alive. Maybe there'd be some clue at the top to what it was, and at the very least, it was tall enough that it would offer a pretty good view of the scrapyard. He walked around to find an easier path up and started climbing as well, finding footholds on the legs, pushing himself faster.

Stonethrow slipped and let out a loud, shriek, but caught himself on a lower part of the leg he was climbing up.

Jazz and Sideswipe got to the little platform at the top at the same time, and fought over it for a few astroseconds, laughing as they nearly pushed each other off.

"Hey!"

They stopped and looked down to see Blackangle standing a ways away, glaring up at them.

Jazz waved.

"The frag are you mechs doing?"

"Check this thing out!" Stonethrow said as he scrambled the rest of the way to the top. "It's so epic!"

"Yeah?" Blackangle shouted back. "You're making enough noise to wake the offline!"

"Hey, look at this," Sideswipe said quietly. Jazz glanced back to see that the red twin had found what looked like a little hatch.

Jazz moved to the side as he tried to get it open.

"What are you looking at?" Stonethrow said.

The hatch popped open and the three of them looked in to see a small, rotating seat and an array of controls.

"It's a machine," Sideswipe said. "Hey, I bet it's like a scrap sorter or something."

Stonethrow slipped through the hatch and sat in the chair. "You think we can get it going?" he asked, pressing buttons and pulling on levers.

Sideswipe shut the hatch and sat on it.

"Hey!" Stonethrow's muffled voice shouted. "Hey! It's dark in here! Let me out!" Something banged on the hatch. "Heeeeelllp!"

"Ok, ok!" Sideswipe moved and pulled the hatch open again. Stonethrow popped out, gasping, and struggling to climb back up. "What are you, a seeker or something?"

"It was _dark_ in there," Stonethrow said.

"Then turn up the brightness on your optics," Sideswipe said. "Come on, mech."

Blackangle got to the base of the machine and started climbing.

"Oh, here comes the boss," Sideswipe said. "He looks mad."

Jazz frowned, glancing around for Sunstreaker. The yellow fledgling had stopped about halfway up and was just sitting, staring out over the mounds of junk.

"Blackie you have to check this out!" Sideswipe said.

"I'm coming!" Blackangle said. "Calm down."

They waited for him to get to the top. He didn't seem angry, though. He looked down into the hatch.

"That's pretty cool," he said. "You think they still use this thing, or is it broken?"

"I don't know," Sideswipe said. "Jazz, you think you can get it going?"

"I ain't a mechanic," Jazz said.

"Hey, I got some stuff," Blackangle said. "We can go now if you want."

"We should come back here sometime, though," Sideswipe said. "And see if we can figure out how to get this thing working, because that would be so fragging cool."

"Yeah," Blackangle grinned. "It would."

"We could drive it out of the scrapyard and take it home," Stonethrow said.

Sideswipe laughed. "Yeah, and ride it to school."

"We could fragging _destroy_ the school," Stonethrow grinned. "Just take it apart. No more homework!"

"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "Hang on, I want to look at those controls. Don't shut me in there or I'll sic Sunny on you."

"I'm not your fragging symbiot!" Sunstreaker shouted.

Sideswipe was about to climb down into the little control center, but then a sudden, brilliant light froze them.

"Hey!" a mech's voice shouted. "What are you doing?"

"Frag!" Blackangle growled.

"Run!" Stonethrow gleefully shoved past Sideswipe and started sliding down the big, many-legged machine on the side away from the mech with the light. The others followed.

"Hey!" the mech said again. "Stop right there!"

They all managed to make it to the bottom before the mech reached the machine, and sprinted through the junkyard.

"Split up!" Blackangle shouted as they heard the mech transform behind them. They'd never be able to out-pace him. "Meet up by the exit!"

Stonethrow and Blackangle went one way while the twins went another, and Jazz split off by himself, spark pulsing erratically. They'd been caught. If they didn't get away…

He ran harder, circling around toward the beginning. Fortunately, the guard hadn't come after him.

He met up with the twins near the entrance and stopped, venting hard.

"Hey," Sideswipe said. "You think we should wait for them or just leave?"

Jazz looked up.

If they waited they might get caught.

"Let's go," Sunstreaker said. "Come on."

He and Sideswipe left, but Jazz just stood, waiting. Sirens wailed in the distance, getting louder. Frag, they were in so much trouble.

He heard the sound of running pedes nearby and looked up as Stonethrow and Blackangle came sprinting around the corner.

"Go!" Blackangle said. "Go!"

Jazz ran with them out through the still-open gate…

And into a group of enforcers.

They stopped. Jazz's spark sank. They were so dead.

The guard drove out after them in his alt mode and transformed, and then they were surrounded. Blackangle let out a long, defeated ex-vent.

The twins hadn't made it out either. They were standing off to the side, with an enforcer looming over them.

"All right," one of the enforcers said. "Is this all of you?"

Blackangle glanced at the twins, then looked down.

"Yep," Sideswipe said.

"Some of you go check," one of the enforcers said, gesturing toward the scrapyard. "The rest of you, come on."

Jazz walked beside Blackangle as they were herded away from the gate.

"You mechlings are in so much trouble," the enforcer who seemed to be in charge said. "You know that, right? How did you get in there?"

"The gate was just open," Sideswipe lied.

The mech glared at him. Jazz wondered why he was talking and not Blackangle.

The enforcer turned and glared at the scrapyard guard. "You leave your gates open?"

"No," the mech said. "I swear we… look, I'm not the one who locked up for the orn, my shift started a joor ago."

"Hmm," the enforcer said, looking back at Blackangle and their group. "Wait here. District, Lockup, keep an optic on them. You've got a transport coming to pick them up and take them to the station."

He walked away, beckoning to the scrapyard guard to follow him. Jazz glanced around. There were only two enforcers technically watching them, but there were five all together, and there was no way they'd outrun any of them without alt modes. Jazz looked at Blackangle who was still studying the ground, scowling. Stonethrow was rocking back and forth, muttering to himself about how scrapped they were.

"So," one of the enforcers said. "You said the gate was open, right? What were you five doing out here in the middle of the off-cycle anyway?"

"Um… we were walking home from a party."

"In this part of the sector?" one of the other enforcers said, raising an optic ridge.

"Yeah," Sideswipe said.

"And you saw the open gate and were just like 'hey, let's go check that out,' right?"

"Yep," Sideswipe said. "Pretty much sums it up."

The mech shook his helm.

"What?" Sideswipe said. "Why are we in so much trouble? It's just a scrapyard, right?"

"Well, it's a restricted scrapyard, so technically you were trespassing on government grounds."

"Like… how much trouble are we in?" Sideswipe asked.

"It's not too bad," the enforcer said.

"Don't tell them that, District," the other one said. "You'll make them think they can get away with scrap like this."

"At the very most, we'll keep you in the station over the off-cycle," District said.

"Are you going to comm. our creators?" Sideswipe asked.

"You better believe it," District said. "They'll be able to confirm your story about walking home from a party… unless they didn't know you were gone."

"We're so dead," Stonethrow muttered.

District frowned at Blackangle. "You look familiar, mechling."

Blackangle turned away slightly.

The other enforcer, Lockup, turned to look at him too. "Hey…"

"What?"

"He's not… you're not the chief's, are you?"

"Oh, scrap, it is," District said. "What's you designation? Black… something."

Blackangle crossed his arms.

"Well, I guess we can talk to your creators in person when we get down there," Lookup said. "They're in this off-cycle, right?"

"I think so," District said. "Little mech, you're scrapped."

An enforcement transport drove up and stopped in front of them.

"Ok, come on, get in."

They were herded in through the side. It was a non-sentient transport, with a mech driving it. The less friendly enforcer, Lockup, sat next to the driver, and District sat down in the back with Jazz and the others.

The transport started moving, and Jazz braced himself against the wall. He glanced at Blackangle, who was staring at him.

"Mechlings," Lockup said. "Mechlings are more trouble than they're worth."

"Hey, all of the rest of the chief's have turned out fine," District said.

"What are we talking about?" the driver asked.

Blackangle met Jazz's optics, and then glanced back at the big back doors of the transport.

Jazz followed his gaze to the lock there. He shook his helm slightly. They were in enough trouble without trying to escape. _That_ could end them with more than an uncomfortable call home and an off-cycle in an enforcement station.

The transport went around a corner and Jazz braced against the wall again.

The enforcers continued their conversation, discussing the difficulty of raising sparklings. Blackangle caught Jazz's attention again and pulled a rusty-looking can out of subspace for a moment, before concealing it again and jerking his helm toward the back of the transport.

It took Jazz a few astroseconds, but then he realized what Blackangle was trying to say. He had things in his subspace that could get them in a lot of trouble. More trouble than they'd be in if they ran for it, provided that they got away.

Jazz sighed and started moving toward the back of the transport. The twins seemed to catch on, and moved so they were in front of him, concealing what he was doing. He listened to the enforcers' conversation as he worked, and stopped when District glanced in his direction.

The lock on this door was a difficult one, but not the worst one Jazz had seen. The trick would be getting it open fast enough. He didn't know how long it would be before they got to the enforcement station, and District was watching him suspiciously.

"…Hey, you mechs remember that instructor who was here… like five or six vorns ago?" Lockup was asking.

"What instructor?"

"Um… what was his designation… I can't remember. He was that really grumpy, no-nonsense one. Did you know he adopted a youngling?"

"Wait…" the driver said. "I think I know who you're talking about, but… no way would that mech adopt a youngling."

"He _did,_ " Lockup said.

"Nah, I must be thinking of someone else."

District turned his helm to look up at the other two. "It was Warrant."

"Yeah," Lockup said. "That's what his designation was."

Jazz went back to working on the lock.

"And he adopted a _youngling_?" the driver said. "Frag, I feel sorry for the youngling."

"No," District said. "I ran into him last vorn, and he talked my audio off about it. He did it because social services was tired of trying to find caretakers for the little pit spawn. Honestly, I wasn't paying that much attention, so I can't remember the whole thing. The youngling lost his creators somehow… or maybe they were abusive…"

Jazz got the lock open, but grabbed the doors before they could open.

They were moving faster than Jazz had thought. Jumping off of this thing was going to be dangerous.

"Hey!" Lockup said, glaring over his shoulder at Jazz and the others. "What are you doing."

"Um…" Jazz said, and let the doors swing open.

"Go!" Blackangle shouted and rushed the doors. Stonethrow leaped off with an excited shout, and Blackangle followed closely. Sideswipe grabbed his brother and dragged him out at the same time that Jazz jumped.

The enforcers were shouting, and the driver was already pulling over. Jazz spun in the air and landed in a roll that scraped some of his paint, but didn't do much damage. He was on his pedes and running toward the others in half an astrosecond.

"This way!" he called, and led them off down an alleyway that was narrow enough the enforcers would have to go single file. He pulled up a map of the city in his processor, and planned a route that would make it hard for the enforcers to follow.

Eventually, the sounds of pursuit faded into the distance, and Jazz slowed to a stop and waited for everyone else to catch up. The twins made it first. Sideswipe collapsed against a wall, venting hard while Sunstreaker scowled down at himself in the dim light from a nearby street lamp.

"Why'd you drag me out of the transport?" Sunstreaker growled. "Just _look_ at this."

Sideswipe laughed. "That was awesome."

Blackangle caught up and stopped, then glanced behind himself. Stonethrow had lagged behind, and was limping pretty heavily.

He didn't seem really upset, though.

"We got away!" he said once he'd caught up to them. "We got away! That was slagging awesome! We made it!"

"Yep," Blackangle said. "Thanks, Jazz, you're a genius."

"No problem," Jazz said.

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Sunstreaker was still checking himself for scratches. "Next time let's not jump off a moving transport, maybe."

"Hey," Blackangle said. "I still can't believe that worked. Mechs, we _got away from the enforcers._ "

"You're so dead, though," Sideswipe said.

"I can talk my way out of it," Blackangle said. "Maybe I'll be grounded for a quartex, but short of actually locking me up, there's not much my creators can do."

Stonethrow leaned against the wall, then sat down, clutching his leg.

"Well," Blackangle said. "That was kind of fun."

"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "Stones, you ok?"

"Yes," Stonethrow moaned. "I'm fine."

"Well," Blackangle said. "We should probably get home before anyone else's creators find out they're gone. I'll see you mechs in school next orn."

"Come on, Stones, we'll get you home," Sideswipe said.

Sunstreaker rolled his optics, but didn't protest as his brother helped the other mech up.

Jazz left and headed back across the city on his own. His spark was still pulsing a little faster than average. Blackangle was right—that had been kind of fun.

* * *

Jazz closed the door very softly behind himself when he came into the house, then turned around and froze.

He'd expected Vibes to be recharging, but she wasn't. Or at least, she wasn't in her room. She was sitting at the table with her helm in her arms. Her posture brought Jazz back to another time when he'd woken up in the off-cycle, feeling as if something wasn't quite right, and had gone out to find her with her helm in her arms on the table. That had been in in Polyhex 17, though, and more than a vorn ago.

He stood in the doorway, a feeling a little like he had then, only guilty this time. He decided against talking to her. He could just slip into his room and confront her the next on-cycle. He skirted the edge of the room to the doorway that would lead him…

"Jazz."

He froze, and looked over at her. She sat up. "Vibes."

"Come here."

You did not disobey when she used that tone of voice. Jazz walked over to the table, and sat down across from her.

"Ya wanna tell me where ya've been?"

"Uh…" Jazz said. "Just…"

"…Out with your friends?"

"Yeah," Jazz shrugged. "Just, ya know, hanging out at Blackangles's house and…"

"Nuh-uh, don't you lie ta me, sparklin'!"

Jazz looked down.

"Ya tell me the truth or don't say nothin' at all."

Silence fell.

"Fine," Vibes said. "After school for the next quartex, ya can come straight home and stay here, and I don't want you hanging around those friends of yours any more."

"But Vibes!"

"Don't ya even try ta argue, young mech, ya don't know how serious this is!" Vibes stood up, optics burning. "We came ta this city ta get a fresh start, slag it!"

Jazz looked down.

"Ya threw away the future ya wanted, but that doesn't mean you can stop trying! A fresh start means things _change!_ No more lies, no runnin' around doing Primus knows what in the middle of the off-cycle, no more breaking the rules! You're _better_ than this, Jazz!"

"Ok," Jazz huffed a sigh. "But I'm not gonna ditch my friends."

"Yes you are," Vibes growled. "'specially if they're getting ya in trouble."

"But they're…" Jazz said.

"Ya can find new friends," Vibes said. "Just put on a smile and talk ta the other mecha in the school. I _know_ that not every mech and femme there is a criminal. Sparklin', why can't ya just find friends who won't get ya in trouble?"

"I don't know," Jazz said. "Maybe cuz everyone else's just…"

"Maybe it's you," Vibes said. "You're so sulky all the time. If I was another youngling, I wouldn't touch you with a ten meter pole."

Jazz glared at her.

"Jus' like that," she said with a bit of a smirk. Then she sighed, shuttering her optics. "Look, I'm glad ya ain't hurt or in trouble, but ya scared me, mechling."

Jazz looked down. "So…"

"So ya're still grounded for a quartex, and I still expect ya ta ditch those friends of yours."

"Maybe…" Jazz said. "Maybe it just don't matter. It's not like…" Jazz trailed off. He was a failure already—why couldn't she just accept that?

"Oh, no ya don't," Vibes said. "I see that look. You are _not_ givin' up on yourself."

Jazz crossed his arms on the table and huffed out an exasperated vent. "Then what _am_ I supposed ta do? I hate school. I already know everything they're teaching."

Vibes sat back down and spoke more softly. "Jazz, that ain't an excuse ta sneak out in the middle of the off-cycle and then lie ta me."

Jazz couldn't argue with that. Guilt filled his spark, and he wanted to apologize, but… he really didn't deserve her forgiveness.

"Ya think I'm like everyone else," Vibes said. "That I don't know how smart ya are. Jazz, Primus knows ya can do anything you want. So what do you want?"

"I can't," Jazz said. "I can't do anything I want."

"Don't say that," Vibes said.

"But it's true. There's a whole slagging lot of things I want ta do that I can't."

Vibes cocked an optic ridge. Jazz wasn't sure if it was in response to his pessimism, or the curse word. Jazz met her optics for a moment, and looked away again.

"Sparklin'…"

He looked back at her, surprised at the amusement in her voice.

"I take it back about not touchin' ya with a ten meter pole, you're kinda cute when you're sulking."

Jazz glared at her, and her smile deepened a little.

"Ya know," she said. "That was one thing I liked about your mech creator. Oh, Primus, I was a stupid, stupid youngling."

"Yeah," Jazz said bitterly. "I'm just like him, ain't I?"

" _No_ ," Vibes reached across the table for Jazz's hand. "Ya ain't. You're smarter, and braver. You're not even an adult yet, and you're twice the mech he was. Don't you ever forget that."

Jazz pulled his hand away.

"Now go get some recharge," Vibes said.

"Ok," Jazz got up from the table. "Sorry I scared ya."

Vibes caught his arm as he walked past her. "Look at me."

He met her optics.

"Ya're forgiven," Vibes said. "Don't do it again."

Jazz forced a smile, feeling marginally better, and left his femme creator sitting at the table.

* * *

-The Present-

* * *

The music intensified, as they were led into what looked like a pretty typical bar. Low lights, loud music, mechs and femmes talking and laughing and over-energizing. Jazz and the others trailed after Branchbinder as he made his way through the room, but he noticed most of the other mechs who'd been walking with them went different ways. Branchbinder motioned for the initiates to follow him. They did, though Stonethrow looked longingly around at the crowd, and Jazz kind of wanted to stay as well.

They went through a door on the far side and down a relatively quiet hallway.

"So…" Blackangle said.

"So," Branchbinder stopped and turned around. They only had two other Quantum mechs with them now. "That's the lounge. You'll be back in there in a couple of breems. They'll assign you into teams later. First, you need to meet Hegemony. Come."

He led the way down the hall, around the corner, and to a set of double doors. The initiates hesitated, but Branchbinder walked up to the doors and they opened for him, to a large room full of darkness and shadows.

A small group of mecha stood around a high-backed chair where a large mech, painted black and dark blue, sat. His optics glowed a dim red-purple. "Branch, friends, welcome in."

There was something about his voice Jazz didn't like. His words were friendly and welcoming, but the tone was somehow icy.

"Here are the new initiates, sir," Branchbinder said. "This is Blackangle, Stonethrow. The red and yellow are Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. And this is Jazz."

Jazz wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but the mech's optics seemed to linger on him longer than the others.

"Good," he said. "I'm sure you'll all find your place here soon enough. I am Hegemony, the leader—if you will—of this organization."

Silence fell as he studied each of them in turn again.

"You five are young, I'm told. Graduated from secondary just this off-cycle?"

"Yes," Blackangle said. Jazz could tell he was nervous, even though his voice was strong and calm.

"Good," Hegemony said. "The young are often valuable contributors. I'll leave the specific briefing to whoever is directly in charge of you. But first, I need two things from you. I want you to tell me what you think you have to offer us, and I need you to swear loyalty to me. Branchbinder will assign you to your individual teams, and some of them have further initiation processes, but I like to meet all of the mecha under my protection at least once."

Silence fell again.

"Blackangle, care to go first?" Branchbinder prompted.

Blackangle frowned at him for a moment, then shook his helm slightly and looked back at Hegemony. "I didn't think about joining Quantum before, but now that I'm here, I'm really starting to like the idea. I can be plenty useful. My creators are high-ranking enforcers, so I'm sure I have some information that would be useful for you."

"Your creators are enforcers," Hegemony turned his gaze on Branchbinder.

"Yes," Blackangle said. "But I don't take after them much. In fact, the prospect of selling them out doesn't bother me at all."

"Hmm…" Hegemony seemed to be considering something. He nodded slightly.

"As for my loyalty, you can have it," Blackangle said. "You and this organization, and all that you do. I swear it."

"Thank you," Hegemony said, and turned his attention to the twins.

"My brother and I are twins," Sideswipe said. "We can fight, and we're fast learners. We like action, and there's not really a place for us in the system, so we'd be happy to stand with you and yours, so long as we're accepted for who we are."

Hegemony nodded. "Prove yourselves and you'll move up. Twins can be a force to be reckoned with."

"Thanks," Sideswipe said.

Then the mech focused his optics on Jazz, but Stonethrow cut in.

"I'm in all the way," he said. "I can fight too, and I'm good at pretty much everything."

"Hmmm," Hegemony said. "Good. Thank you. What about you?"

Jazz looked down. Here he was—what would happen if he turned this mech down? It was probably too late for that. "I…"

"Not very sure of yourself, are you?"

Jazz took in a deep vent. "I'm not. But like the twins said, there ain't really a place for me in the system, not after some of the things I've done. I'm a hacker, sir, and good at getting inta stuff. I haven't run across any code I can't break yet."

Hegemony frowned at him in a way that made him very uncomfortable. He tried not to show it.

"And I'm willing ta swear loyalty as well. I ain't got nowhere else ta go, and this seems like a place my kinda skill set would be appreciated."

"Not quite as enthusiastic as your friends," Hegemony said. "But good enough, I suppose. There's nothing wrong with being cautious before you trust someone, and so far I doubt we've done much to gain your trust. Stick with us, though, and you'll see." He smiled. "Thank you, Branchbinder. This is a fine batch of initiates. Send them back to the lounge and make sure Lilac sees all of them. And I want to talk to you alone, as soon as you're free."

Branchbinder nodded, and waved the rest of them out of the room after him.

* * *

Notes:

1\. I have a little story about Sideswipe and Sunstreaker called "Split" which you should read if you want to know more about their childhood.


	3. Talent

"So," Branchbinder said, once they were out in the hallway again. "I'll talk to some of the team leaders, and see who needs more mecha. In the meantime, wait in the lounge. Make friends, have some high grade. Don't get too crazy, though. Don't start any fights or anything. Initiates got to keep their helms down for a bit, understand?"

They nodded.

"You'll want to take turns going to see Lilac, though. She'll give you one of these." He turned his arm so they could see the word Quantum spelled out in stylized glyphs on the edge of his shoulder plate. "You can get it anywhere you want, within reason. Her office is on this corridor, five doors to the left of the lounge on the opposite side of the hallway. It'll be open. Go in one or two at a time, but all of you have got to go before the off-cycle is over."

"I'll go first," Stones said.

"Come on then," Branchbinder replied. "I'll show you where. Have to warn her about you five and ask her something else anyway."

They got to the door of the loud room they'd come through. Someone had painted 'lounge' on the doors in sprawling, loopy glyphs.

Branchbinder continued down the corridor with an excited Stonethrow on his heels, and the other four joined the music and noise.

The four of them found an empty table and claimed it, then sat in silence for a few astroseconds before Sideswipe spoke.

"Stones is going to get us all killed one of these orns."

"One of them," Blackangle agreed. "Right now, I'm pretty happy about this. Quantum. My creators are always talking about hunting them down, but no one ever can. They really are the best of the best. I can't believe they wanted Stones, though."

"I can't believe they wanted any of us," Jazz said. "I mean, we all just barely got our adult frames. We're just barely out of secondary school."

"Mech, if they want anyone, it's you," Sideswipe said. "And if you don't know why, you're more of an idiot than Stones is."

Jazz frowned. He didn't want to believe that but at the same time... he could definitely be useful to an organization like this.

They stopped talking after that, and Jazz studied the room. The music was too loud to really allow for much talking that wasn't shouting, but Jazz didn't mind that. He liked the deep throbbing of the sound, the _power_ of it.

Eventually, Stones came back into the room. Jazz waved him over to their table and he scurried over.

"Look!" He turned around to show them that he had Quantum written across his back all the way from shoulder to shoulder. It shifted as he moved.

"Wow," Blackangle said. "Going for a subtle effect, aren't you?"

"Should have put it on your aft," Sideswipe said with a grin.

"Why?" Stones giggled. "That where you're going to put it?"

Sideswipe shoved him. "Go bother someone else."

"One of you has to go next," Stones told them, before wandering off.

Blackangle looked at the twins.

"What?" Sunny asked.

"You two going next?" Blackie said. "Or me?"

"We'll go," Sideswipe said. "Come on, Sunny."

The twins got up and left the room. Blackangle watched Stonethrow for a breem or so, then pushed away from the table and got up.

"I think I'll go see where they hand out the high-grade," he said, and walked away, leaving Jazz alone at the table.

* * *

-Half a Vorn ago-

* * *

"Shhh," Sideswipe hissed. Stonethrow bounced up and down excitedly while Jazz casually looked through the window of the store. He couldn't shake the eerie feeling that he was being watched, but he figured he was just being paranoid.

School was starting back up in less than a decaorn, and they'd decided to do something exciting before it did, in a sort of celebration of the break.

"Ok," Blackangle said. "Jazz, run us through the plan again."

Jazz nodded once and spoke quietly. "Sides and Sunny go up ta the cashier and distract him."

It was a small store, and the mech behind the counter had access to all the cameras. "I'll get in without anymech seeing, and fry his cameras. Soon as I've done that, I'll signal ta Blackangle out here, and he'll send Stonethrow in."

Blackangle nodded. "Got it?"

"Yep," Sideswipe said.

"So ready," Stonethrow hissed, optics alight.

"Go," Blackangle said.

The twins went for the door of the shop. Blackangle had the easiest part. He just had to keep looking through the window and pass Jazz's signal along to Stonethrow. Jazz had been worried when suggesting the plan, that Blackangle would want a more significant role, but he hadn't seemed to mind.

Jazz watched until Sideswipe had started up a conversation with the bored looking mech behind the desk, and then walked in the doors. He knew the cameras could see him, but he didn't mind, for now. He knew where every single camera in the store was. Once inside, and hidden among the shelves, he ducked down and weaved a path over to the front counter that avoided every little mechanical eye. It involved being in the cashier's line of sight several times, but that was what the twins were for, and Sideswipe was at his best, arguing about the price of something.

Then Jazz was behind the desk, right at the pedes of the mech Sideswipe was talking to. He got out a data stick and plugged it into the monitor machine, then opened the virus on it and let it run. It was designed to make it look like the computers had crashed on their own. All of the video files from now until the mech noticed it would end up corrupted and unwatchable, and all the alarms would be offline.

Jazz looked up at the window and nodded to Blackangle, whose optics he could barely see through the transparent material. An astrosecond later, he heard Stonethrow come in. He back-tracked carefully and crept behind the nearest shelf, then stood up. Now they were safe to take what they wanted with no mech the wiser.

It was stealing, Jazz supposed. But none of them really had any credit, and it wasn't like they were _hurting_ anyone.

Jazz came around to the front desk and stood just behind the twins.

"Hey," the mech behind the desk said. "Move it, you're holding up the line. If you aren't going to buy anything, then get out."

The twins left, and Jazz stepped forward. He reached into a jar on the desk and pulled out a small handful of energon treats—little multicolor cubes in different flavors.

"That all?" the mech asked.

"Yeah," Jazz shrugged. "I was lookin' for something, but ya don't have it."

"What?"

Jazz named some obscure brand of paint, and the mech shook his helm. "Sorry, mechling. Out of stock. Come back in a few orns."

"Ok," Jazz paid for the energon treats, and subspaced them before leaving.

All of the items in the store had little tags on them that made them un-subspaceable while the tag was activated, and alerted the front desk when they left the building. But the alarms were turned off, and the mech at the desk had been distracted. When Jazz got outside, he met up with the others,

"Success!" Stonethrow said, holding up an armful of cans of spraypaint.

"Good, now let's get out of here," Blackangle said, still staring through the shop window. "Put those back in the bag, I think that mech behind the desk has noticed that the cameras are out."

Stonethrow stuffed the paint back in the black bag he was carrying, and they all headed for the street.

They were just about to go around the corner when a mech stepped out from behind it. They froze, staring at him. He was tall and graceful, and his dark colors—black and brown—made him hard to see in the darkness of the off-cycle.

He smiled and crossed his arms. "Hey, mechs," he said quietly, and pinned them with a knowing look.

There was a moment of tense, awkward silence.

"Hi," Blackangle said, managing to sound confident and kind of annoyed. "Um, we've got somewhere to be, so..."

The other mech's smile deepened. His optics were white at the edges and purple in the center, which was a little creepy. "No worrries. I'll get right out of your way."

He took a step back, and Blackangle pushed past him. Jazz followed. When he glanced back, he couldn't help but feel that the mech's optics were trained on him specifically.

"I saw that little stunt you pulled," the mech called after them. "Think I should report it to the authorities? I got a good enough look at all of you to identify you to them."

Blackangle huffed and turned around. "What exactly is it that you want?"

"Just a word or two," the mech said, approaching them again. "My designation's Branchbinder, by the way."

"Forgive us if we don't tell you ours," Blackangle said.

Branchbinder raised an optic ridge. "Forgiven," he said, and continued to study them.

"So," Jazz said quietly. "What did ya want ta say ta us?"

His smile deepened into something a little more genuine. "I was impressed," he said. "You pulled that whole thing off flawlessly. I mean, you got lucky, but still, it was impressive. I just thought I'd give you my comm. code. If any of you ever need a job after school's over, contact me, and I might be able to work something out for you." He tossed a little data chip at Blackangle, who caught it. Then he glanced at Jazz again. "Wouldn't want good talent to go to waste. See you around, mechlings." He turned and walked away.

Blackangle looked down at the data chip in his hand.

"That was… weird," Sideswipe said.

"Yeah," Blackangle agreed.

That feeling of being watched... Jazz shouldn't have ignored it. Someone _had_ been watching.

"Well, he's probably glitched in the processor or something," Blackangle said, and subspaced the chip. "Let's get out of here."

They had found a good place earlier, but it was a bit of a walk.

"I wish we could subspace this stuff," Sideswipe poked the bag Stonethrow was carrying as they went. "We wouldn't look so suspicious that way."

"And that Branchbinder mech was kinda creepy," Jazz said. "Maybe we should just… I don't know, go home?"

"Aw, come on," Sideswipe said.

"s'the matter, Jazz?" Blackangle asked with a smirk. "Getting jumpy?"

"I ain't scared," Jazz said. "Just careful."

They got to their destination eventually. It was a long, blank wall on the side of a warehouse. Stonethrow dumped out the bag of spray paint on the ground and it made a loud jangling sound that seemed to echo in the silence.

Now that the excitement of stealing the paint was over Jazz wouldn't mind going home, but he grabbed a can anyway, and walked over to the corner of the building. He sat down and started playing around with the paint. He had originally thought of writing his name, but that wasn't particularly creative. He ended up just making a pattern of waves and lines, in electric blue that reminded him vaguely of music from one of his favorite bands.

At least, he did that until Sunstreaker came over and asked if he could borrow that color. Jazz relinquished it and backed away from the wall, looking over to see what everyone else was doing. Blackangle was painting his name in large, stylized, black and orange glyphs. Sideswipe was stubbornly trying to run his can out of paint by making a large red circle on his part of the wall and Stonethrow… you couldn't really tell what he was trying to do.

Sunstreaker, on the other hand, was painting a burning cityscape. Jazz watched, fascinated as he filled in tall buildings with sure, sweeping motions, and sent spheres of blue and white fire down on them. After a few breems, he paused and stepped back, then went over to Sideswipe. "Can I borrow that?" he asked.

"No," Sideswipe said.

"What the slag are you painting?"

"What does it look like I'm painting?" Sideswipe asked.

"Your aft," Sunstreaker said.

"It's a circle!"

"No it's not, it's too flat on the top. You're going to run out of that paint and I need it."

Sideswipe snorted and looked over at what Sunstreaker was painting. "Oh, Primus. You're supposed to do your name or something, not paint a fragging mural all over everywhere,"

"Give me the red."

"Stop hogging all the paint."

Sunstreaker made a grab for the red paint, but Sideswipe held it out of his reach.

Blackangle whistled. "Sunny, that's epic."

Sunstreaker glanced back at his mural, and Stonethrow jumped forward to snatch the can of paint out of Sideswipe's hands. "Catch, Sunstreaker!" he shrieked and tossed it into the air.

"Hey!" Sideswipe said as Sunstreaker caught the can of paint.

Sideswipe sighed and went back to the small pile of paints to pick a new color. He ended up with bright green, which he took over to finish filling in his giant circle with. It clashed horribly, but Sideswipe didn't seem to mind. Then he borrowed Blackangle's colors and gave his giant red and green circle black and orange optics and fangs. Jazz had to admit it _was_ kind of creepy.

Blackangle and Sideswipe both finished, but Sunstreaker was still going, filling in more and more buildings and setting them aflame with orange and white and sky blue

Then Stonethrow must have gotten bored with making squiggles all over the wall with the colors that no one else wanted. He stopped and looked at his work. Jazz scanned the whole thing, from Sunstreaker's masterpiece to his own doodle in the corner. He wondered what a psychologist would make of this mess, especially Stonethrow's random loops and squiggles.

Stonethrow suddenly turned around, with a demonic light in his optics. "Paint war!" he declared and charged at Blackangle, spraying lurid pink paint at him.

"Hey!" Blackangle dodged out of the way. "Cut that out, Stones."

Stonethrow giggled and went after Sideswipe next.

Sideswipe waited until the last moment, then dodged out of the way, and sprayed Stonethrow in the side of the helm with bright orange.

"Ack!" Stonethrow stumbled to a stop and rubbed at his faceplate. "What the slag!"

"Well, you attacked me first," Sideswipe said. "I'm justified."

"Oh yeah?"

"Better believe it."

With a shout, Stonethrow charged at Sideswipe again, who dodged the paint, and bumped into Sunstreaker.

"Watch it!" Sunstreaker shouted. "You almost made me mess up."

"Sorry," Sideswipe grinned at him. Stonethrow snuck around and took aim.

"Stones, no!" Sideswipe shouted, but it was too late. A cloud of bright pink paint puffed against Sunstreaker's arm.

They all froze.

"Oops," Stonethrow said, though he had obviously done it on purpose.

Sunstreaker looked down, then dropped the can of paint he was holding. Stonethrow shrieked and turned to run away, but he was too slow and before Jazz even had time to react, The yellow fledgling was kneeling on Stonethrow. Jazz rushed over to them as Sunstreaker brought his fist down. Stonethrow screamed and Sunstreaker punched him again. Sideswipe and Jazz reached them at the same time, and pulled Sunstreaker off of the other fledgling. Sunstreaker struggled, spitting cursewords at the cowering figure on the ground. Blackangle walked past them and knelt by Stones, who was curled up, whimpering. His helm was dented and his olfactory sensor was cracked and leaking energon.

Blackangle scowled at Sunstreaker. "Calm down would you? it's just a little paint."

Sunstreaker's engine growled, but he stopped struggling.

Sideswipe and Jazz let go of him, and he stepped forward. They all tensed, but he just walked past Stonethrow and Blackangle and off into the darkness by himself.

Blackangle made to go after him, but Sideswipe stepped forward.

"Wait," he said. "Let him go. Just let him go."

Blackangle sighed. "Well, that was fun. Come on, get up, Stones."

Stonethrow wailed pitifully as Blackangle dragged him to his pedes. Sideswipe and Jazz picked up all the cans of paint and put them back into the bag.

"Stones," Blackangle said. "You slagging idiot. You _knew_ that would happen."

"I'm sorry," Stonethrow whined. "He shouldn't have hit me so hard it was just a little paint." He pushed away from Blackangle, and then stumbled and fell to his knees again.

"I'll take him home," Blackangle said. "See you mechs next orn maybe."

"Ok," Sideswipe said. "Sorry about Sunny… but you really should have known better, Stonethrow. He gets really upset, you _know_ that."

Blackangle and Stonethrow left, and Sideswipe sighed and leaned against the wall, staring off in the direction Sunstreaker had gone.

"Ya wanna catch up with him?" Jazz asked.

Sideswipe shook his helm. "He didn't leave because he wanted company. He'll be ok, he's just going home. By then he should have cooled off."

"Slag… what would have happened if we didn't pull him off of Stones?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "I hope we never have to find out… I don't know." He looked suddenly sad. "I actually don't know if I'd put it past Sunny to kill somemech, you know… Not in cold energon, but if he got angry enough."

It was kind of like Motormaster all over again. Although… no. Jazz glanced back at the half-finished mural on the wall. Motormaster had been big, dumb, and dangerous. Sunstreaker was big, smart, and dangerous. Also, Motormaster had enjoyed hurting other mecha. Jazz didn't think that Sunstreaker did. So in some ways it wasn't as bad. But it still reminded him of that. He wondered if maybe he _had_ chosen the wrong friends again.

Who was he kidding, of course he had chosen the wrong friends. He had known that the moment he'd agreed to sit down at Blackangle's table that first time. But they were his friends and he wasn't going to let them down by ditching them.

He didn't see much of them for the next few orns, especially Sunstreaker. But the next time he passed by the wall they'd painted on, the mural was finished.

* * *

-The Present-

* * *

Jazz was still sitting by himself in the lounge when there was a sudden lull in the chatter. He looked up, glanced around, and saw that mech, Hegemony, making his way through the room. Jazz tried not to look like he was paying attention as the blue and black mech got closer to him.

Then, Hegemony sat down across from him.

"Jazz, was it?" he asked.

Jazz nodded.

Hegemony leaned forward across the table. The mecha nearby picked up their conversations again but Jazz could feel optics on him. A lot of optics.

"I heard a little about you," Hegemony said. "Branch says you're a pretty observant mech."

"Like ta think so," Jazz said.

"There's a camera in this room," Hegemony said, voice suddenly cold. "Where?"

Jazz took a deep vent and let it out slowly. He could do this. He looked around the room again, in the corners and on the walls and ceiling. He hadn't noticed any cameras specifically, but he hadn't been looking. The room was kind of an odd shape, and there were pillars and tables and things that would make it difficult to place a camera so you could see the whole thing. Jazz imagined he was a camera and slid himself across the walls and into the shadowed corners, calculating angles and trying to see everything. There was no place for a camera where you could see the whole room. However, there were two very good places, and if you put a camera in each, there would only be a couple of blind spots.

"You've got two breems," Hegemony said.

"It's in one of two places," Jazz said. "That corner over there above the bar, and about halfway along the wall over there, above the front door."

Now that he was thinking about it, he could see the camera above the door, just a black speck on the wall. He looked back at Hegemony and could tell that the mech was a little surprised.

Jazz let himself smile a little. "There are two cameras, aren't there? In both'a those places."

Hegemony didn't confirm, but Jazz could tell he was right.

"So," the big mech said instead. "Jazz. Why are you really here? What is it you want?"

Jazz wasn't sure what to say. He had the feeling that bad things would happen to him if he didn't choose his words carefully.

The truth was he really wasn't sure. He had no idea what he wanted.

"You have one breem, mechling. I don't need an essay."

A challenge. Jazz needed a challenge—he needed to do all of those things that other mecha couldn't. He couldn't just go and live an ordinary life somewhere. In Quantum, he could push himself, find his limits.

But he wasn't sure that was the right thing to say to this mech.

"I'm here, cuz that's where my friends are," Jazz said instead. "And I stick with my friends."

Hegemony studied him, and Jazz didn't dare meet the mech's optics. Eventually the mech nodded solemnly. "Very well."

He got up and left after that, looking almost unsettled. Jazz forgot to pretend he wasn't staring as he watched Hegemony walk out the door and then kept watching after he was gone.


	4. Graduation

Jazz was still staring at the door Hegemony had left through when Blackangle came back.

"Hey. What are you looking at?" the other mech asked, setting a cube of glowing high-grade in front of Jazz. He must not have noticed the change in the atmosphere when Hegemony had come in.

"Nothin'" Jazz took the cube. "Thanks."

"Don't mention," Blackangle said. "Something's on your processor, though." He took a gulp of his own cube.

Jazz looked down into the bright blue liquid, remembering the time Stonethrow had managed to steal them some, back in school. This time was different. They were adults now. Their systems could handle it. He raised his cube to his lip plates and sipped. He shuttered his optics as he felt it hit his tanks. "Is this really what ya wanna end up doing?"

"Don't know," Blackangle looked down. "A little fast, isn't it?"

"Yeah. An' I think it's my fault too."

Blackangle looked up. "Huh?"

Jazz raised his cube to his lip plates again and drank more deeply this time. "I'm sorry if this don't work out."

"What do you mean it's your fault?" Blackangle asked.

Jazz wasn't entirely sure. But he felt… felt almost as if the whole reason they were being initiated was that Quantum wanted _him._ The way Branchbinder and Hegemony were looking at him, the fact that as soon as he was alone, Hegemony had come to talk to him… they were obviously more interested in him than any of his friends.

Then again, they probably wouldn't have been able to pull off half of the things they had if Jazz hadn't been helping them. They were all in over their helms.

Jazz figured he'd probably be ok. He'd already been trying to figure out who was more or less dangerous. At some point, Branchbinder had come back in and the fact that Jazz hadn't noticed him come in was kind of frightening. He acted like he was some sort of recruiter, but he had to be more than that.

"Jazz."

"Huh? Oh, nothing." He didn't want to voice his guess. He didn't want to imply that he thought he was more important than Blackangle. It wasn't true, and he wouldn't mean it that way, but his friend would hear it that way.

The twins came back into the room and made their way over to the table. Sunstreaker looked to be in a foul mood.

"All right," Blackangle said. "Guess it's my turn." He drained his cube of high-grade, and passed the twins on the way out.

They came over and sat down. Sideswipe had Quantum in blue and purple up his right arm.

Sunstreaker saw Jazz looking and held up a hand. On the back of it, in very small, off-center glyphs, was the word.

"She made it lopsided on purpose," he complained.

"Could have just got it on your arm or something," Sideswipe said.

Sunstreaker glared at him.

"Where are you going to get yours, Jazz?" Sideswipe asked. "I dare you to get it on the back of your helm, or across your back like Stonethrow."

Jazz shrugged and downed the rest of his high-grade. "Don't know."

"Not going to let Stones show you up, are you?" Sideswipe asked.

Jazz smiled. "Well, _you_ did."

Sideswipe looked down at his arm. "Well, I don't want to look like a fragging idiot."

"Good luck with that," Sunstreaker mumbled.

"You're just sore cuz she called you a wimp," Sideswipe said.

Sunstreaker glared again, this time as if he meant it, and Sideswipe backed off and changed the subject.

"So where did Stones go?"

Jazz pointed to where Stonethrow was talking animatedly at a table of mechs and femmes who were, for the most part, ignoring him.

Sunstreaker looked in that direction, then back, rolling his optics. Sideswipe, however, didn't look away from Jazz, a puzzled, almost worried expression on his faceplate.

"Some kind of feedback in your processor, Jazz?" he asked.

Jazz shrugged. "Just not too sure about this whole thing."

"Come on," Sideswipe said with a grin. "It'll be cool. And the five of us will stick together."

That was something, at least. Jazz looked down at his empty cube of high-grade.

"How is it?" Sunstreaker asked.

"Good," Jazz said. "Let's go find some more."

Blackangle came back a few breems later with the brand still smoking on his shoulder.

"Your turn," Sideswipe nudged Jazz. "Dare you to get it right across your chest."

Jazz smiled. "Jus' wait." He got up and passed Blackangle on his way out of the room. With most of two cubes of high-grade in his tanks, he was feeling a lot better about the situation in general. This was going to be great. This was where he belonged.

* * *

-A quarter of a vorn ago-

* * *

When school was over for the orn, Jazz went to wait in front of the building. They'd been planning this since the beginning of last term. They'd all had their alt modes for about a decaorn now, and Stonethrow had come to their free joor with the news that the Track was closed for the orn.

The twins showed up next.

"Hi Jazz!" Sideswipe said as they approached. Jazz jerked his helm in acknowledgment and leaned against the front of the building. Blackangle came out a few astroseconds after the twins, and then they all watched as the flood of students became a trickle.

"Where's Stones?" Blackangle said.

"Probably saw something shiny in a ventilation duct and climbed in after it." Sideswipe shrugged. "Or completely forgot. Or maybe he thought he might be able to fly if he jumped off the roof of the…"

"Hey mechs!" Stonethrow barreled out the door. "Phew, I thought you'd leave without me. Sorry, I got held up by a teacher. Let's go!"

He transformed and shot out over the stairs with a screech of glee, wheels spinning. But his back wheel hit the bottom step and he shifted back to root mode, tumbling. The others followed him down the stairs on pede.

"You ok, Stones?" Sideswipe said.

"Yeah," Stonethrow got up with a grin. "Race you there." He transformed and drove away, and Jazz and the others followed suite this time and chased after him.

* * *

The Track was an enormous racing arena. It wasn't a straight speed race either, it was full of sharp turns and obstacles. It was privately-owned though, and only professional racers could drive it. Jazz and the others had snuck in to watch races a couple of times, but they'd always wanted to get on there and try it out.

And fortunately for them, Jazz could pretty much get them whatever they wanted.

They sped down the road. Other mecha shouted at them as they rocketed past. Jazz was caught up in the thrill of pure, unadulterated speed. It was a little hard to keep up at first, but after a few breems, Stonethrow seemed to run out of energy and slowed to a crawl which forced the other alts in the road had to go around him.

"Great idea, Stones," Sideswipe said, once he and Sunstreaker had caught up. "Drag us across the city until we're all too tired to even care about the Track,"

Blackangle caught up too, and passed them. "Hey, keep up!"

They were halfway across the sector in less than a joor. The ability to transform just opened up the entire world. It had only been a decaorn and already Jazz wasn't sure how he'd ever gotten places without it.

They stopped a couple of blocks from the Track.

"Ok," Blackangle said. "Jazz?"

"The back door," Jazz said. "We can fry the camera there from a distance. Come on."

They followed him. In a few breems, they were sneaking through the empty ground-level stands. They stopped when they got to the railing.

"Lo and behold," Stonethrow flung his arms wide. "The Track!"

It had been a while, and Jazz had forgotten how massive it was. The stands were so far away that the slight fog in the atmosphere made them look white and washed out behind the hills and loops and platforms of the track.

Sideswipe vaulted over the railing and Sunstreaker and Blackangle followed him. Jazz waited for Stonethrow, and then brought up the rear. They walked around toward the starting line. They were almost there when Blackangle transformed and sped past them, narrowly missing Sunstreaker. "Slowpokes!" he shouted.

"Hey!" Sideswipe called. "Cheating!"

The others all transformed and roared off toward the beginning of the track.

"Hey, Jazz!" Stonethrow called behind himself. "You gonna race or what?"

Jazz transformed and shot after them.

The first few turns were pretty simple, and Jazz had trouble closing their lead. Then there were some jumps, and some more, sharper turns. The track went through fields of low mounds and up steep hills. Stonethrow took a sharp turn and rolled a couple of times, and Jazz got ahead of him, then caught up to and passed Blackangle as well. Sunstreaker was in the lead by then, and Sideswipe wouldn't let Jazz get past, playfully swerving to block him, until Blackangle came up and drove past them both. The others skidded to a stop as they came to the first big jump, except for Stonethrow who bulleted past them, screaming wildly, and made the jump without a problem.

"Lunatic," Blackangle growled, and backed up so he could try too.

After that jump, the track became a three-level maze. There were five or six different setups for the maze, and apparently, they picked a random one to change it to before the start of each race. None of the racers would know which one it was. You were supposed to get to the top floor, though, and take a ramp down to the next part of the race. Jazz made it out first and basically let himself freefall down the ramp, loving the feel of the atmosphere tugging at his hood as he rushed forward. He sped through the agility test that was next, ducking and dodging and driving on a strip of land that was barely wider than he was. An adult mech might have to balance on two wheels for that part.

Then he came to a jump that was entirely impossible. It was a reasonably short ramp, then a chasm, then a solid wall that went up far too high to reach, no matter how fast you were going. He skidded to a stop and stared for a few breems, trying to figure out how in the universe you were supposed to get past this obstacle. He was tempted to check the public database to see if it had any answers, but decided against it because that would be cheating.

The others caught up and stopped.

"Whoa," Stonethrow said. "What the frag is that?"

In response, Jazz backed up, then shot forward. He took the ramp and sailed over the ditch. Then he transformed midair and spun just in time to catch onto one of the handholds on the wall. The others cheered as he swung around and waved.

Stonethrow tried to follow him, but Sideswipe beat him to the ramp. Jazz watched his friend transform, but Sideswipe was at the wrong angle and going too fast. He hit the wall and bounced off, then fell.

"Sideswipe!" Sunstreaker transformed out of his alt mode.

Jazz watched as the red fledgling fell down, and then hit the ground. Hard.

Sunstreaker sprinted up to the edge, and jumped off. He landed in a neat roll and rushed to his twin's side. Jazz started climbing down the wall, and dropped to the ground when he was close enough he knew it wouldn't hurt him.

"Sides… Sideswipe get up!"

Jazz had never heard that much emotion in Sunstreaker's voice before. Sideswipe moaned as his brother dragged him to a sitting position. One of his legs was bent and broken and Jazz was willing to bet there had been some internal damage too.

"You idiot!" Sunstreaker growled. "What the frag did you think you were doing?"

"I'm fine," Sideswipe mumbled.

"You could have landed on your helm and cracked it open!" Sunstreaker grabbed Sideswipe by the shoulders and dragged him to his pedes before slamming him against the nearest wall. "You could have slagging got yourself offlined!"

"Ow! Let go, Sunny."

Sunstreaker shoved him hard and then backed away. He looked down at himself and sighed. "And I'm all covered in scratches from jumping down here… I thought you were badly hurt, don't _do_ that, ugh."

"Oh, _sorry_ ," Sideswipe winced as he shifted his weight. "Did I make you mess up your _paint job_?"

"Shut up!" Sunstreaker said. "Slag it, Sides, we can't get a medic for that, we don't have the credits."

Sideswipe frowned down at the twisted and crumpled plating on his leg. "Maybe my self-repair can handle it?"

Jazz doubted that.

"I mean, we'll probably have to straighten it out…"

Sunstreaker grabbed his twin and slammed him back into the wall again. "Just shut up!"

"Ow. You know you're helping a _lot._ "

"Mechs," Jazz said quietly, "Let's just… get out of here, ok?"

"You would have done it too. It's not my fault I fell, Jazz made it look really easy."

Jazz looked back up at the handholds on the wall. Was this his fault? Sideswipe tried to take a step away from the wall, and Sunstreaker ducked under his arm to support him when he cried out and nearly fell.

"Think you're fragging immortal, don't you?" Sunstreaker grumbled.

Fortunately, there was a path out of the ditch that led up and around to an earlier part of the track. Stonethrow and Blackangle came from that way and met them. They transformed as they reached Jazz and the twins.

"Slag," Blackangle said. "Sides…"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Sideswipe said as he limped slowly forward, supported by his scowling twin.

"Can you transform?" Blackangle asked. "Then you wouldn't need to limp."

Sideswipe tried a couple of times before successfully transforming, and they all rolled back toward the entrance of the Track.

"So that was fun," Stonethrow said.

"Yeah," Sideswipe agreed, though he sounded a little strained. "Next time, I'll make that jump."

"Next time I'll tie you up and leave you at home," Sunstreaker grumbled.

"Hey!"

They all froze. The guard was standing on a different level of the track, staring at them.

"Oh, Pit, _run_." Blackangle said, and they all took off, headed for the entrance. Sideswipe lagged behind, and Blackangle and Stonethrow shot far ahead of him. Jazz almost went with them, but then let himself fall back to be with the twins.

The guard caught up to them.

"What do you crazy fledglings think you're doing! You're going to get your slagging selves killed. Out! Get out!" He shoved them back toward the entrance of the Track and escorted them out the front door, grumbling that he ought to call the enforcers and promising that if he ever saw them around again, he'd have them arrested.

They drove slowly away—slowly for Sideswipe's sake—and stopped around the corner. Sideswipe transformed again and sat down against the wall, optics shuttered and faceplate tight with pain.

Sunstreaker transformed as well and stood over his twin, arms crossed.

"So," Jazz said, joining them in mech form, "You two gonna be able ta make it home?"

"Yeah," Sunstreaker said.

Sideswipe shook his helm. "Not with my leg busted like this. They'll have a fit and you'll end up out in the streets for a quartex. We have to find a medic..."

"Anything I can do?"

"No," Sunstreaker said. "We're ok…" he sighed and glanced over his shoulder. "Slagging cowards just left us there, didn't they?"

Jazz shrugged. "I almost did too, ta be honest."

Sunstreaker nodded.

"Well, I'll see ya at school then."

"See you," Sideswipe replied.

* * *

Jazz was supposed to be at home. Vibes had grounded him for a quartex because he and his friends had gotten caught trespassing in another junkyard. Then shortly after that, he'd been suspended from school, and so his femme creator had doubled his sentence, and taken away everything he owned.

He'd only made it two orns sitting all alone in his room, before he'd given in and sneaked out. Now he was wandering the center of Polyhex, losing himself in the lights and sounds. This was one thing he'd missed while they'd been in Kalis. He remembered Vibes taking him to work when he was very young, hiding him in a cupboard at the energon hall she'd worked at. There had always been loud music at the place across the street, and the babble of mecha talking had been soothing. He hadn't minded much not having anything to do back then. He'd spent his time trying to pick out whose voice was whose, and looking for opportunities when no one else was looking to sneak from cupboard to cupboard.

That was back when nothing much had been expected of him, so no one could be disappointed in him. He missed those orns.

He wished he could drive there, but sector seventeen was a long way away, and he _did_ actually want to get home for the off-cycle. He wandered for a while, and ended up in an unfamiliar place. He considered checking a map just to see where he was, but then decided he really didn't care. He didn't need to have any sort of destination. He just needed to drive.

He really ought to straighten out his life. Sure there were lines he wouldn't cross, but it seemed he pushed those lines back orn by orn. Blackie and the others were great friends, but maybe Jazz ought to opt out from their next excursion. No, there was no maybe about it.

He got to a more populated place, with lots of mecha walking, so he transformed and walked as well, past little shops and bars, and through the crowds. He started to get the itchy sensation that he was being watched so he stopped and looked around. The street was full of mecha. Anyone could be watching him.

"Hey, mechling."

Jazz jumped, spinning to see the mech who'd spoken just behind him. "Hey," he stepped to the side to be out of the way of other pedestrians.

"How's life going for you?" the mech asked quietly. He was familiar. Where had Jazz seen him before?

Oh yes. He'd shown up out of nowhere that time they'd robbed the paint shop.

"Mechling?"

Jazz shook himself. "Sorry. You…Branchbinder, was it?"

"Yeah. What was your designation again?"

Jazz hesitated.

"Ok, ok, don't trust me, I get it," Branchbinder said.

Jazz narrowed his optics. "Ya been following me?"

"No," Branchbinder said, raising an optic ridge. "Why would I waste my time doing that?"

"There was somethin' ya wanted from us," Jazz said. "Wasn't there?"

"Something I wanted? Mechling, you should consider yourself lucky I still even remember you."

"Yeah, ya made some kind of offer."

"Indeed. Are you looking for employment? You're still a little young, but…"

"No, not presently," Jazz said. "Just curious as ta what ya were talkin' about."

"I see," Branchbinder said. "You're the 'ask questions first' type."

"Most of the time," Jazz said, noticing as a passing femme gave them a funny look.

"If you really want to know more," Branchbinder said. "I would suggest you ask your friend for that comm. code I gave you. You can contact me with it, and I'll get back to you. This isn't a good place to talk."

Jazz nodded, and refrained from glancing over his shoulder, letting his audios tell him if someone walking by stopped to listen. "I got another question though," Jazz said.

"Ok," Branchbinder shrugged. "Shoot, mechling."

"Ya really… ya really haven't been watching us?"

"Watching you?" Branchbinder asked. "I already said no. Why the pit would I bother myself with that?"

"Don't know," Jazz said. "Sometimes I just get the funny feeling I've got optics on me."

"Probably just paranoia" Branchbinder said, then shook his helm. "Look, comm. me if you want to talk to me. Otherwise I'll see you around… Jazz."

Jazz froze.

Branchbinder smiled slightly and turned to walk away.

* * *

Jazz's suspension ended and he went back to school. He debated about it for quartexes, but eventually decided to ask Blackangle for that data chip with Branchbinder's comm. codes on it. But Blackie told him it had disappeared shortly after he'd gotten it.

"I know," he said when he picked out the disappointment in Jazz's expression. "I was going to prank him or something, but I lost it."

He kept an optic out, though, and noticed Branchbinder on several occasions that school term. He didn't want to talk to him, though. It didn't seem like Branchbinder was out to harm them in any way. Probably something more like recruit them. Jazz wasn't really interested in getting recruited, but he was definitely curious.

He wasn't doing very well in school. His grades were more and more consistently bad, mostly because he couldn't be bothered to do his school work anymore. It was pointless.

He wasn't sure _what_ to do, actually. Stonethrow always had interesting, dangerous ideas, but as they got more interesting and dangerous, Jazz only found that he hadn't hit his limits yet. There wasn't much he couldn't pull off by some combination of quick thinking, clever hacking, and dumb luck. Part of him wanted to try even more interesting things, but he still didn't want to step over that line into the realm of real crime. Petty theft and trespassing were bad enough.

He made himself an expert, though, on the city, using information from the public database. He had been hoping to find some interesting scientific articles to read, but had discovered that there was nothing educational in the ways of technology or science. There was plenty of history, though, and many maps. The news was good too, but Jazz got the feeling it was more than half lies.

It was surreal, sometimes, to think that the world was a very different place from what he could see with his optics, and what everymech wanted to tell him. The shadows had shadows, and it seemed that corruption festered in every spark, except in those mecha who didn't know enough to be corrupt.

That all helped him feel better about what he and his friends got up to. After all, they were just a bunch of fledglings having fun. The real criminals were the mecha on the Council and in the gangs.

Time ticked by, and secondary school drew nearer to its end. Jazz was more and more worried about the future. He balked at the idea of finding some standard job, like construction or accounting or mining. But you had to have a good record to do anything interesting, and Jazz's record was anything but clean. Not to mention his grades were horrible. He was just barely going to graduate.

But what did it matter? Even if he'd done his best and kept his olfactory sensor out of trouble, his highest possible ambitions could only have been to be in charge of a construction crew, or manager of a small store somewhere. Nothing interesting.

He started to dread graduation, as he and his friends all officially became adults, and he felt his guardian bond with Vibes weakening, and he knew that soon he would no longer have a home and would need to fend for himself. Sometimes he didn't feel like he was ready for that. Other times, he wished it would just happen already.

The graduation ceremony took what seemed like ages. Jazz got his diploma. He had located Vibes in the crowd, but couldn't tell whether she was pleased or not. He knew he wasn't pleased with himself, but that was nothing new.

Stonethrow looked back from two rows in front of Jazz. "Don't forget," he mouthed. He had insisted that once the ceremony was over, and they'd all gone home for the off-cycle, they were to sneak out and meet him in the city, at a location he'd provided. Jazz knew he was going to go, even though he thought he probably shouldn't. There just wasn't any questioning it.

The ceremony ended. Everyone clapped. Jazz got up with his peers and walked out of the building. He passed Blackangle at some point.

"Congrats, mech," Blackangle said quietly.

"You too."

"See you soon."

"Yep."

Then he saw Vibes and headed in her direction. She enfolded him in a warm embrace.

"So," she said. "You want to go get some energon somewhere? Or just go home?"

"Let's just go home," Jazz said.

They drove in silence, but when they got home, it was obvious Vibes wanted to talk. She got out some energon, and set it on the table. Jazz wanted to meet up with his friends, but he didn't want to be rude so he sat down.

"I am proud of you," Vibes said. "I know ya could have done better, but ya also could have done worse. It's been a hard vorn for both of us."

She didn't know. Maybe she did deep down, but she didn't want to admit it. Jazz had only been caught once or twice, and she had no idea the sort of things they got up to on a decaorn-to-decaorn basis.

"But ya stuck it out. I was worried for a while."

Jazz shrugged. "Me too, I guess."

"So, what now?" Vibes asked, and Jazz thought he saw something knowing in her optics. "What are your plans?"

"Don't know," Jazz said. "I'll look around, ya know, get a job somewhere."

"Get on it," Vibes smiled so he knew she was teasing. "I ain't feeding you forever."

"Ok, ok," Jazz said as he stood, pretending to be offended. "I get it, I'll pay my own way, all right?"

"Mechling, I was just joking."

"No ya weren't," Jazz said, feeling suddenly gloomy. "And ya aren't really proud of me either. I wouldn't be if I were you."

"Jazz!"

"I'm… tired. I'm gonna go recharge, all right?"

"Jazz…"

Jazz left and went to his room. Then he shut the door and lay down on his berth to wait.

Vibes came in, but didn't talk to him. He lay as still as he could, pretending to be recharging. She left and after a while, he risked getting off the berth. He passed the main room where the energon was still out on the table. He felt kind of bad, but he hadn't been lying. He didn't think she was really proud of him, nor should she be. It was too late to deserve her pride. It had been too late the orn he'd been expelled from the school in Kalis. It had been too late the moment he'd stood there and _watched_ while Motormaster smashed Soundwave's screen against the corner of that table. He had been willing to stand and watch while someone else was hurt—he'd been willing to do the hurting some of the time.

At least Blackangle never did much of that.

Jazz made it out of the house without Vibes noticing, and raced off through the dark streets to meet up with his friends.

* * *

-The Present-

* * *

He walked down the hall, leaving light and music and talking behind him until he got to an open door.

The light in this room was brighter, and the music softer. There were several berths, and a desk strewn with medical tools, datapads, and cans of paint. A femme, reflective black with curling purple and white flames painted all over her frame was sitting at the desk. She looked up and smiled when he came in.

"Hey, " she said with a Stanix accent. "Last one, aren't you?" She seemed authentically cheerful, which was refreshing after Branchbinder and Hegemony.

Jazz nodded. "That's me."

"I'm Lilac," she stood. "Have a seat. Now, let's see… where do you want the Quantum brand?" She studied him with a bit of a smile. "I think it'll look good against your colors."

Jazz looked down at himself. The blue and purple would stand out against his white and black.

"You going to be a loose socket like the first one and have me paint it all over you, or a sparkling like your grumpy, yellow friend?"

Jazz looked up, smiling, and told her where he wanted the brand.

Her optics widened, and he could hear her processor stall for an instant. Then she smiled as well. "Ooohh, bold. Yes, I can do that, if you're sure."

Jazz nodded.

"Lie down then," she said, then went back to her desk. "This ought to be fun. I haven't done anything like this in a while. I think I'll make the brand from scratch. Using normal materials won't work in this case anyway. Might take a little longer than normal, but I wouldn't want to mess something like this up." She gathered things and came over to the berth again. Jazz lay down and shuttered his optics.

"So, where you from?" Lilac asked pleasantly. "Here?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "Just graduated from secondary out in the suburbs."

"Wow. I knew you mechs were young, but… slag, they get them younger and younger as the vorns go by. Hold still, this'll sting a little."

Jazz felt something hot pressed against the right side of his faceplate and managed just barely not to flinch. "How'd you get into Quantum?"

"Not sure," Jazz said. "A while back, Branchbinder caught us takin' stuff from a store, and I guess he was impressed with the way we did it. I think he's been watching us since then."

"Hmmm," Lilac said. Jazz felt another something hot pressed to his face, just next to his right optic.

Lilac kept talking to him while she worked. By the end of it, his faceplate was sore, but he'd made her laugh a couple of times. Then she painted. Jazz could hear the paint hissing and blistering on the hot metal she'd welded to his faceplate, but she assured him that was supposed to happen.

"All right," she said eventually. "You can open your optics silly."

Jazz did, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on his chassis and studying his face. "Hmmm… your otpics don't match it."

"That's ok."

"Really? They really don't... Not that they aren't a nice color or anything, but… I can change them if you like. I'm a medic, you know, not just an artist."

Jazz wasn't so sure about that.

"I do this sort of thing all the time," Lilac said. "I've gotten pretty fast at it. I understand if you don't trust me, though." She smiled at him, leaning forward until their faceplates were almost touching. Then she grimaced. "It really would look better. Please let me change your optic color."

"All right," Jazz said. "If ya really want ta."

She stood straight again. "Ok. I'll have to put you into medical stasis for a few breems, tough. Unless you want to be conscious for optic surgery, and I'm willing to bet a lot you don't."

Jazz nodded. "That's all right." He thought he ought to be a little more worried about this, but he wasn't particularly frightened. He'd be fine.

* * *

"Awake in there?"

"Yeah." Everything was dark. He could barely make out Lilac's optics and the faintly glowing flames painted over her frame. "But I can't see."

She laughed. "That's because I turned the lights off before I brought you back online, silly. Sit up and look in the mirror."

Jazz sat, feeling a little dizzy, but that was probably the high-grade. He stopped when he saw his reflection.

The glyphs were welded in purple and blue, right across his faceplate, curling around his optics. His optics, which had been a sort of glassy green, were now purple and blue as well. He had no idea how Lilac had done it, but they shifted from a red-purple in the center to a deep blue at the edge. They glowed more brightly than the glyphs and stood out in the darkness.

"What do you think?" Lilac asked. She sounded like she actually wanted to know.

He let a slow smile creep onto his face. Let Stonethrow show him up? Ha. "I like it."


	5. Regrets

Jazz onlined to the distinct feeling that his tanks were on fire. He moaned and un-shuttered his optics, putting a hand to his helm as his processor made itself known by throbbing. He realized he had absolutely no idea where he was. He was sitting against a wall, and there were tables and chairs and mecha talking quietly…

He checked his memory files, but they were fuzzy and unfocused. He remembered graduating the orn before, then coming here, wherever here was. The others had been here too. Where were Blackangle, Stonethrow and the twins now? Jazz drew his hand across his faceplate and was startled to find new ridges and bumps there.

Then he remembered.

He stumbled to his pedes. He'd joined Quantum, one of the most notorious gangs in Polyhex. What in Primus' name was he _doing?_

Vibes.

What time was it?

Jazz checked his internal clock, but got a warning that it had reset itself. Great, now he'd need to ask someone what time it was... Or he could just check the public database.

He connected to the database and reset his internal clock. It was already three joors after the beginning of the on-cycle. Vibes would certainly have noticed he was gone at this point. She would be worried. Jazz needed to make sure she was all right. He tried to comm. her, but the comm. lines were blocked and he got a password request. He'd either have to hack through, or leave the building. Maybe he should just go home.

He headed for the door that led outside. Some mecha were watching him, but no one stopped him as he walked out…

And nearly crashed into Branchbinder.

Jazz froze.

Branchbinder didn't seem particularly surprised. "Hey, mechling."

"Hi," Jazz said, spark pulsing erratically.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't know," Jazz said. "Nomech told me where ta go. Where are my friends?"

"Where they're all supposed to be," Branchbinder said. "They got assigned to teams."

Jazz nodded, hoping they were all right. A small part of him still worried this was somehow his fault. Then he looked up and asked the obvious question, the one he was certain Branchbinder wanted him to ask. "So, what team did I get assigned to?"

"You didn't." Branchbinder said with a smile. "Not yet at least. Come."

He turned and walked away.

Jazz followed hesitantly. "Where we going?"

"Somewhere quiet," Branchbinder said. "I've got some questions for you."

Jazz followed him as he went around the building and tapped the wall a few times. A door opened. Jazz couldn't even see the key pad as he walked past.

They went down a dimly-lit hallway to a small room with nothing in it besides two chairs. There was something ominous about it, but Jazz wasn't really sure what. Branchbinder took one chair and gestured for Jazz to sit in the other.

The place was too small and boxed in. He sat down, trying to tell himself Branchbinder had no reason to hurt him. He shouldn't feel so jumpy.

"First question," Branchbinder said. "Who am I? What's my function?"

Jazz was a little taken aback. Branchbinder met his gaze with an unreadable expression.

"What?"

"What's my job? What do I do? Tell me."

Understanding dawned in Jazz's processor. This was another test. "Ya're a recruiter. I know that much. But… ya're something more too, ain't ya? I'm not entirely sure what. I think ya're closer to Hegemony than most ordinary recruiters would be, and that makes me think recruitment's not all ya do. But I ain't watched ya long enough ta get an idea of what else."

He paid attention, but couldn't read Branchbinder's expression. The other mech didn't react at all to the answer.

"Next question. Who are you? I want your story, mech, from the beginning. Who are your creators? Where have you lived in the past? What sort of trouble have you gotten into? That sort of thing."

Jazz hesitated. "Well… I was raised in Polyhex 17. Moved ta Kalis for a while, and went ta a private school there."

Branchbinder looked surprised at that, and Jazz felt a little safer knowing that there _were_ things that could surprise the other mech.

"So why didn't you stay there?" Branchbinder asked.

"Got kicked out."

"For…?"

Jazz shrugged. "Kidnapping another student's symbiot. And then I helped one of my friends corner him. He got hurt pretty bad, and we got caught."

"Sounds like that's a story."

Jazz didn't feel like sharing. "It was revenge, in behalf of one of my friends that student had gotten expelled. It was… stupid."

Branchbinder shook his helm. "Mechling, you just joined Quantum. No one cares if you beat up some kid in secondary school. So, we know you can hack, and you're pretty smart. Can you fight?"

Jazz nodded. "I've had some training."

Branchbinder looked at him, as if expecting him to elaborate. But Jazz wondered whether he really _wanted_ more of an explanation. Jazz wanted to prove that he knew how to say as little as possible. Besides, there would be no way to really gauge Jazz's skill fighting without putting it to the test. Branchbinder had to know that.

At length, the older mech nodded. "We'll have to explore that in a different situation."

Jazz nodded. "So…" he said. "Who are ya? Ya asked me, do I get a turn ta ask questions?"

"Not that one," Branchbinder said. "If you want to know about me, you're going to have to figure it out for yourself."

This was all a test, wasn't it? Well, Jazz could play this game. He realized that there was a possibility Branchbinder had researched him and had known everything about him already.

No way to know. You couldn't trust this mech.

"To return to an earlier question, tell me about your creators."

"Do I have ta talk about them?"

"Yes."

"My mech creator abandoned us more than two vorns ago. My femme creator expects more of me than I can do. I'm not gonna get homesick."

It was important that Branchbinder thought that.

"You think she's worried about you?"

"Probably," Jazz said, with a twisting feeling in his spark. "But she'll get over it, especially if I can let her know I'm all right. Do I get ta go talk ta her at some point?"

Branchbinder shrugged. "Sure."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why not? I mean, she could probably turn you in to the enforcers, but at this point the only thing you could tell them would be the location of our base, and they already know that."

Jazz frowned. "They what?"

"Yes," Branchbinder said. "At least the mechs at the head of enforcement in this city know. I don't think they tell the street cops."

"Why don't they do anything about it?"

"We have a deal with them," Branchbinder said. "You would be surprised how many mecha can be bought or threatened. Not that you shouldn't be careful. Things'll get acidic pretty quick if we don't watch out. They _will_ arrest you, and we won't bother about trying to get you out."

That would be all right. Jazz could get out of jail if he wanted to. "So," he said. "Are ya involved in that? Negotiations between Quantum and Enforcement?"

Branchbinder shook his helm and smiled. "Now you're just throwing out wild guesses. Let's change the subject. Can you hack into the security system in this building?"

"I don't know," Jazz said cautiously. "Haven't tried it yet."

"Well, try."

"With what?" Jazz asked. "I can remotely hack comm. blocks, and stuff like that, but a camera system's different. I need a way ta connect with the building's internal data network."

"Here," Branchbinder pulled a datapad out of subspace and handed it to Jazz. "You can keep this, and use it. Not right now, though, I just wanted to see what your reaction to that request was. You don't seem to have any qualms about hacking into security here."

Jazz looked down at the dark screen of the datapad. "Well, ya asked me ta do it. I figured if ya asked me, ya wouldn't mind."

Branchbinder shrugged. "I can see that."

"Are there a lot of rooms in this building like this?" Jazz looked around at the bare walls.

"No," Branchbinder said. "So, you work on hacking the security system, and if you can do that, we'll start having you work on other things. But for now, because I have about a joor before I need to do anything else, come with me. I want to judge whether you're worth training to fight."

Jazz relaxed a little. That was something he didn't worry about. He had been one of Master Yoketron's most talented students.

Branchbinder got up and left the room. Jazz subspaced the datapad and followed him. He memorized the route as they went through doors and hallways and eventually down a set of stairs into a dark, cavernous room. Branchbinder tapped a button on the wall and lights came on. The room was spacious, but the corners were filled with boxes of various sizes from thin containers that could probably hold a datapad or two to huge crates that it would take several mechs to lift.

"First attraction of the tour," Branchbinder said. "This is the hold. Quantum serves many functions, but one of the main ones, if you can believe it, is as a mail service." He smiled. "We're based out of Polyhex, but we've got branches and connections in every city on the globe. We have deals with everyone from the Minelords of Kaon to the High Council in Iacon, and mecha in every mail and transportation company on Cybertron. It's really a noble calling, making sure the mail gets delivered. We're slagging reliable too, unless you're trying to send funding for some government project like public schools or orphanages."

Jazz forced himself not to look like he cared at all. "Ya serious?"

Branchbinder shrugged. "Yeah, once in a while we take things. More often, we're just transporting goods that you can't get through the normal mail. Somehow I doubt you'll be working in deliveries, though."

"I assume you aren't."

"Don't assume things," Branchbinder said.

"Does everymech get a tour like this?"

"Nope. You're special. Most of the others don't know any more than they absolutely have to."

"Why am I special?"

"Because we have an opening in security, and we were hoping you'd be able to fill it."

"An opening in security?"

Branchbinder shook his helm. "Nothing too dangerous if that's what you're worried about. Of course, don't start telling anymech you're in security. And take me seriously whenever I say don't do something."

Jazz nodded.

"I'll tell you more later about what _your_ job will be. Right now, I want you to attack me."

Jazz blinked. "Right now? In here?" he asked.

Branchbinder nodded. "There's enough empty space. Come on."

"Ok," Jazz shrugged, then without even falling into a fighting stance, he lunged at the other mech. Branchbinder blocked with apparent ease, and then blocked Jazz's second strike as well. Jazz continued to attack, and Branchbinder stepped back. After a few breems, Jazz backed off.

Branchbinder nodded. "Circuit-Su. Not a bad place to start. You're going to want some real weapons, though. Hand-to-hand is only useful if your opponent doesn't have a gun or a knife."

"You're really good," Jazz said.

"Thanks," Branchbinder said. "Call it vorns of practice."

"Ya gonna be the one ta train me?"

Branchbinder nodded. "Of course. Though don't tell anyone that either. In fact, don't tell anyone you're learning _anything_ from me, ok?"

"Why?"

"The higher-ups want them to trust you," Branchbinder said. "Now, this time, you defend, got it?"

Jazz barely had time to register what Branchbinder had said before there was a fist headed for his faceplate, and it was pure instinct that kept him from getting hit. He dodged out of the way and jumped backward before finding his footing. Branchbinder was fast and he wasn't pulling his punches and Jazz hadn't done anything like this in about a vorn. It was only about half a breem before Branchbinder got past his defenses and slammed him into the wall so hard he felt something give slightly in his internals.

Branchbinder let him go, and Jazz slumped to the ground, optics shuttered.

"Yeah," Branchbinder said, sounding impressed. "You're worth training, mechling, so long as you can learn to fight like you mean it."

Jazz gritted his denta and got to his pedes. He thought he could still feel his frame reverberating from that blow. He looked up and saw that Branchbinder wasn't paying attention to him any more, but staring off to the side with a vague expression on his faceplate.

He was getting a comm, most likely.

"Okay," he said quietly, then looked at Jazz. "Two breems."

"What?" Jazz asked.

"Turns out I have somewhere to be," Branchbinder said. "Come with me. You can spend some time in the lounge."

"The lounge?"

"Yeah. Follow me."

Jazz followed the other mech out of the hold and back the way they had come. "Ok," he said. "I'm going to give you an assignment, too. Talk to mecha. Learn designations. Be subtle about it, though. Don't look too eager to stick your olfactory sensor in everyone else's business. They don't like that around here. Just talk, and try to figure out who's who."

"Why?" Jazz asked.

"Because I said to," Branchbinder said.

Jazz nodded, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. What in pit was he doing? He needed to get out of here.

Then he remembered the glyphs written in bold across his faceplate. He really couldn't go out into the city looking like this. He'd better stick around for a little while, at least. Besides, he needed to make sure his friends were all right.

When they were outside again, Branchbinder left him with instructions to go back to the lounge. He walked away, and Jazz almost wanted to disobey him. He wasn't sure why, but the temptation was strong. Maybe because he wanted to feel like he was in control of the situation, even though he definitely wasn't.

But instead, he headed back inside. He found an empty table and sat at it, then studied the room around him for a while. Mecha came and went. Jazz noted which ones were more or less friendly, and which ones seemed more or less respected by the others. He was about to get up and maybe go talk to someone when a mech who had been watching him for a little while waved him over.

Jazz got up and walked over to sit at his table instead.

"Who are you?" the other mech asked. He looked old—though it was hard to tell how old someone was. It was something about how bright their optics were, and how they carried themselves. Some mecha got old faster than others.

"Jazz."

"Hmmm," the mech said. "I haven't seen you before. Would have recognized you with that thing on your faceplate if I had. New, huh?"

Jazz nodded.

"Assigned yet?"

"No," Jazz said, letting some of his frustration into his voice. "I have no idea what they want me to do."

"Huh…" the old mech said. "I saw Hegemony walk over to your table and talk to ya,"

So he was fishing for information too. Already, he'd contradicted himself once. He'd said he'd never seen Jazz before.

"I don't know what he wanted either," Jazz said quietly. "Or where my friends went. Or anymech here except for Branchbinder."

The mech didn't look all that surprised, but he _did_ look interested. Branchbinder had asked that Jazz not mention their conversation that orn, but surely he could talk about before that.

"Hmm," the old mech said. "How do you know old Branchbinder then?"

Jazz sighed. "Well, he's the one who brought my friends and I here. It's his fault we're in this mess. He's a recruiter, right?"

The older mech snorted. "Recruiter. Yeah. Be careful what you say around him, Jazz. He's a snitch." The older mech leaned in close. "He's got Hegemony's audio, that one. So, where you from?"

"Polyhex," Jazz said. "You?"

"Raised in Crystal city," the older mech said. "But I've been here a while. More than fifty vorns."

"That's a long time," Jazz said.

"Yep," the mech said.

Jazz talked to him for a while. It was actually kind of nice to have a benign sort of conversation with someone, but Jazz didn't think he was going to get any more useful information out of this mech without asking outright, and that was against the rules of the game.

So, after a while, he excused himself to go get some energon. Not high-grade this time—he still felt a little sick from the off-cycle before. Then he lingered at the main counter until he caught the optic of a femme at a nearby table, sitting with two mechs.

"Hi," Jazz said as he got closer.

"Hey, it's one of the new mechs," the femme said. "Sit down."

The other mechs at the table didn't look so friendly. Jazz sat, but didn't speak immediately. Both of the other mechs seemed a little older. One of them was large and mean-looking. The other was smaller, like Jazz, and studied him with a level of curiosity that made him just a bit uncomfortable. He tried not to show it.

"I'm Spotlight," the femme said with a smile. "You?"

"Jazz."

Spotlight was too cheerful for a place like this. Jazz wondered what she was doing here.

"So," she said. "Whose crew are you on?"

Jazz shrugged. "Haven't been assigned yet?" he said. "I don't know."

"They'll get around to it eventually," Spotlight said. "These two are both on Midnight's crew. I think one of your friends got assigned to her. What was that mech's name?"

"Stonethrow," the smaller mech said. "I think."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "What about you?" he asked, looking at Spotlight.

She shook her helm. "Primus, no, I'm not on a crew. I just work at the bar here, and run errands for the higher-ups and stuff like that."

"She's queen of gossip, though," the larger mech said. "She wants to know why Hegemony was talking to you last off-cycle."

"Ya know," Jazz said. "I really don't know why. He asked me the strangest thing too."

"What?" Spotlight seemed very interested.

"He asked me if I could tell whether there were any cameras in the room." It was probably better to tell the truth. There had been mecha close enough to listen to their conversation, so if he lied, it would only look suspicious.

The smaller mech's gaze flickered up toward the nearest camera, but the other two just frowned.

"Could you?" Spotlight asked.

He didn't have to tell the whole truth, though. "No," Jazz said. "How's a mech supposed ta just _know_ if there are cameras, I mean, I looked around a little, but I couldn't see any."

Spotlight shrugged. "That's weird. So, you don't know anymech, do you?"

"Nope," Jazz said. "No one. Except you now, and that old mech over there." He gestured. "Who talks enough ta make your audios fall off."

Spotlight smiled and shook her helm. "Yeah. Rusts being new, doesn't it? Here, I know everymech in this room. Not that you want to hear me talk about them all."

"I don't have anything better to do." Jazz said, surprised by his luck.

Spotlight started out talking about the other mecha in the room, but the conversation drifted to a different topic after a little while. Jazz found it wasn't too hard to talk to these mecha. Before too long, Spotlight was called away. Jazz kept talking to the other two mechs at the table until they needed to leave too. He wondered how long he was going to be here before Branchbinder came for him again. He went back to sit by himself and pulled out the datapad Branchbinder had given him.

It didn't have very much on it, but it was remotely connected to the building's computer system. Jazz downloaded a few things onto it, and started setting it up. Branchbinder had said he could keep this.

He found a secluded corner of the room to work on trying to hack into the security systems. He knew there were cameras, though he didn't know exactly what kind they were, or where they sent their information. He managed to get past a few firewalls before someone sat down across from him.

He looked up and was surprised to see it was Blackangle.

Jazz turned the datapad off. "Hey, Blackie."

"Hey," Blackangle said.

"Doing all right?"

"Are you kidding?" Blackangle asked. "This is great. I'm already working my way up. You know, a little. Jazz, I'm going to be in charge of this some orn."

"Hmm," Jazz said. "I'm sure lots of mecha say that."

"Well, you're really cheerful and optimistic this orn. What's on your processor?"

"Vibes is probably worried."

Blackangle snorted. "She's always worried. You need to stop letting her rule your life, Jazz. You're an adult now. What adult cares if his femme creator is worried?"

Jazz shrugged. "I don't know." At least Blackangle wasn't upset they'd joined Quantum. He'd be all right. It seemed they were all going to be on different teams though. That was unfortunate. Jazz was starting to wonder if they'd still be friends or not.

Well, he could make friends here if necessary. He was already sort of friends with Spotlight and the two mechs at her table. He did need to go see Vibes, though. Branchbinder had said he could. "Hey, Blackie, you seen the twins?"

"Nope," Blackangle said. "The two of them got assigned to a different group than me. How about you?"

"I've just been here all orn," Jazz said. He didn't want to keep secrets from his friends, but he also didn't feel like telling Blackangle that Branchbinder was going to be personally training him. He didn't want Blackie to think Jazz was trying to show him up, or move up in the ranks as well.

"All orn?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm," Blackangle said. "Well, I'm sure they'll assign you to _something._ You're good at hacking things, and computers and stuff. I'm sure they need mecha like that. You should talk to that creepy mech, Branchbinder or whatever his designation is. He might be able to sort that out."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "I haven't really seen him since last off-cycle. I talked to some mecha here, though."

"What are you doing with that," Blackangle indicated the datapad.

"Just playing a game."

Blackangle nodded. "Well, I'm going to go get some high grade and talk to that pretty femme running the bar."

"Ok," Jazz said and watched as Blackangle walked away. Then he looked down at the datapad. His reflection stared back up at him. His faceplate really did look kind of cool. The letters glowed a little, in the dark.

A few joors later, the twins showed up. They also came over to sit at Jazz's table.

"You know," Sideswipe said, by way of beginning the conversation. "You're kind of creepy from a distance."

Jazz looked up at him.

"In an awesome way. I'm just saying."

"It's a good thing you changed your optic color." Sunstreaker put in. "It wouldn't have matched."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "How are you two?"

"Honestly," Sideswipe said quietly. "I just want to go home."

"Home's not much better," Sunstreaker said.

"For you, maybe," Sideswipe said. "I'm not sure about this whole crime thing. I mean, it's fun to mess around and break into places and stores and things like that… but this is for real. I don't know if…" Sideswipe sighed, looking troubled.

Something had happened. The off-cycle before, they'd both seemed all right with this. Jazz waited for them to elaborate, but they didn't. They both looked troubled, even though Sunstreaker did a pretty good job of hiding it.

"I get it," Jazz said. "I kind of wanna go home too."

"Hey! You two!"

The twins turned and Jazz looked up to see a big, dark-colored mech glaring in their direction.

"Get over here," the mech said "Yeah, you. Come on, boss wants to talk to you. You ain't done."

Sideswipe sighed, and the twins got up and left.

Jazz was alone again. He was hit by a sudden and unusual wave of homesickness and guilt. He had to go talk to Vibes. Just to explain to her what had happened and that he wasn't going to be around much. She wouldn't turn him in. She might kick him out of the house, but she wouldn't turn him in.

As much as Jazz hated it, he was a lot like his mech creator. He couldn't just sit still somewhere and live life. He had to keep moving, keep finding new challenges.

But he owed it to Vibes to go back and explain that, even if it would hurt to see the anger and betrayal in her optics. He wasn't just going to abandon her. She probably assumed he had. She hadn't even bothered to comm. him.

He couldn't sit around here any longer.

But he couldn't go out into the city with "Quantum" written across his faceplate.

Unless he was in his alt mode.

Feeling like an idiot for not thinking of that sooner, Jazz got up from the table. He went out the door. He was almost worried someone would stop him, but nomech even seemed to notice.

Once outside, Jazz transformed. He wanted to race through the streets, but he forced himself to drive at a normal pace so he wouldn't look like he was running from anything.

He got out into the city with no problems, and headed toward home…or Vibes' house. He wasn't sure if it was really home still.

He would go talk to her, then get back. He wouldn't even be missed. He doubted Branchbinder would show up in the joor or less that he would be gone.

He crossed the city and didn't transform until he was right in front of his door. He tapped in the code and went in, but Vibes wasn't there. She would be at work this time of the orn. Oops. Well, he could still comm. her.

He activated his comm. and reached out to his femme creator. He didn't talk immediately, waiting for her to answer, knowing she was probably busy.

" _Mechling?"_

 _"Hey, Vibes."_

" _Are ya all right? Where are you?"_

"At home."

There was silence for a few astroseconds.

"I.." Jazz said. "Want ta talk to ya… in person."

" _Now?"_

"Well, I don't want ta take ya away from work…"

" _I'm coming home right now…"_

Jazz waited. She sounded like she had something else to say.

Silence.

"Vibes?"

" _Please… be there when I get home, all right?"_

"Ok," Jazz said. "I will."

He sat at the table and waited. As strange as it seemed, he wanted to leave. He counted down the time it would take for her to get home from work, and every moment, he worried more and more about it. A large part of him didn't want her to know—didn't want to see the disappointment on her faceplate. About two breems before she ought to be home, Jazz almost left. He made it all the way out the front door before stopping himself.

No. What was he doing? He'd just promised her he wouldn't leave. He went back inside and sat at the table again, waiting.

Eventually, inevitably, the door opened. Jazz looked down at the table, listening to Vibes' footsteps as she came in and made for the main room.

She stopped in the doorway and didn't say anything. She was waiting for him to make the first move in this game that neither of them wanted to play.

Jazz looked up slowly so she could see his faceplate. He didn't meet her optics though.

She still wouldn't say anything, but came and sat next to him, studying him. He dared to focus on her expression for a moment and was trapped in the sorrow and disappointment he saw there. He could hear the words she was holding back. Why, Jazz, why? You're better than this.

It was worse than anger would have been.

She reached out and cupped his faceplate in her hands.

"Oh, mechling," she said. "Ya had such pretty optics."

Jazz backed away from her. "I just came ta tell ya," he said. "That… I'm not gonna be around much anymore. Just… wanted ya ta know I'm all right and all."

Vibes put her hands down on the table and nodded. "Figured." She sounded angry now.

"Just… I'm sorry. I've never been a real good creation."

Vibes shook her helm and stood up. "The only thing ya'll do by saying that is give yourself an excuse ta do things ya know ya shouldn't."

Jazz sighed.

"Now Sparklin'," Vibes said, sounding resigned. "I'm sorry. But ya've got about two options right now. I love ya, but I'm not letting that," she pointed at his faceplate, "In my house. So ya can get rid of that Or ya can _leave_."

Jazz stood up. It wasn't so simple. He'd made a promise, and he was pretty sure that if he tried to go back on it, they'd hunt him down and kill him. He wasn't going to drag Vibes into something like that.

Vibes caught him as he walked past her, and pulled him into a quick embrace. "Thank ya for comin' ta talk ta me."

The words unsaid hung heavy in the atmosphere. _It's more than your mech creator ever did._

Jazz left. Right out the front door.

He knew he wasn't coming back, and he was pretty sure Vibes did too. It was inevitable, of course. He was an adult now, and would have been moving out anyway. But it still felt like he'd betrayed her. He wasn't going on to an honest profession, like he knew she'd wanted. He wasn't doing anything she wanted.

And he wouldn't be able to talk to her much in the future.

He walked around the corner, and almost crashed into Branchbinder. He froze.

"First off," Branchbinder said. "What in the pits of the inferno are you doing walking around in broad sunlight with that brand on your faceplate? Secondly, I didn't tell you you could come over here."

"But you did…"

"I said you could. I didn't say you could _now._ You get _my permission_ before you just wander off, you hear me?"

Jazz looked down.

"Transform and follow me back," Branchbinder said. "And if you say another word, you'll sorely regret it. Do you understand?"

Jazz met his optics, and saw something frighteningly hard and cold in them. He suddenly had no doubts that Branchbinder could kill him if he wanted.

Branchbinder transformed, and Jazz followed suit, then stayed right behind the other mech all the way back to headquarters. He kept following as Branchbinder led him through the lounge, and then down the hall.

They got to a small room with a berth and a desk. Branchbinder gestured for Jazz to enter the room first, then came in and closed the door.

"So…" Jazz said.

Branchbinder slammed him against the wall. "What were you doing?"

"Just going to talk ta my femme creator," Jazz said, wincing. "I'm _sorry._ Ya said I could!"

"Don't get smart with me, mechling," Branchbinder growled. "I told you to stay in the lounge until I got back."

"Ya were gone for joors!" Jazz tried to push away from the wall, but Branchbinder held him there.

"I told you not to take my orders lightly. I see you didn't believe me."

"What?" Jazz said. "I didn't do anything stupid. I was in my alt mode the whole time I was going through the city."

"It's not about this time, it's about next time, and the time after that," Branchbinder's voice hardened. "You disobeyed me. Don't try to tell me you actually thought you had permission to leave the lounge."

"Sorry," Jazz said. "I won't… do it again."

"That's right you won't," Branchbinder growled and raised a fist. Jazz turned his helm to the side, shuttering his optics. the blow fell hard enough to dent his faceplate and strain his neck. He gasped.

Branchbinder let him go, and waited for him to slide down the wall before kicking him. "You. Won't. Disobey. Me. Again." Branchbinder punctuated each word with a kick, then picked Jazz up and slammed in against the wall again.

Jazz didn't even think about trying to fight back.


	6. Supply Run

"This is your room, by the way. You're lucky, you get your own. Most mecha have to share with three others—well, most mecha don't have to live here at all. Speaking of which, let me make one thing clear so we don't have any more mess-ups. You will stay in headquarters unless I give you express permission to leave. I don't care if you explore within the building, but if someone catches you where you aren't supposed to be, I won't step in to help you. And if you try to leave again, there isn't _anything_ that will help you. Got it? Good."

Jazz heard footsteps, then a door closing, and Branchbinder was gone.

He lay on the ground for a while, waiting for the pain to recede and his systems to stop glitching out. He wished he could just turn off the pain. You could dull it by manipulating your pain grid, but the only way to really escape it without some kind of medical help was to shut yourself down.

After a few breems, he got to his hands and knees and then crawled over to the berth. The damage was primarily external, but it hurt a lot.

He lay on his berth for a while, then got shakily to his pedes. He was leaking a little, and he wasn't entirely sure where, but it didn't seem serious. He didn't want to just lie around until his self-repair systems fixed him though. He needed a medic or something.

There was Lilac.

Jazz remembered where her room was. He'd probably be able to get there from here. He took in a deep, shaky vent and made for the door. One of his legs twisted and groaned every time he came down on it, but he gritted his denta and kept going.

He found Lilac's office without much trouble, and knocked on the door.

"Just an astrosecond!"

Jazz leaned on the door, and nearly fell when it swooshed open.

"Oh," Lilac said.

Jazz stood up straight. "Sorry ta bother ya."

Lilac blinked, then shook her helm. "Sit," she pointed to a berth, and went over to close the door. Jazz limped over to the nearest berth and sat down. Lilac came over and studied him.

"Wow," she said. "On your first orn, huh? Who gave you that? Nope, don't tell me. I don't need to know." She pulled a chair over and sat in it. "Okay, sweetspark, I'm going to explain to you how this works. I don't help for free. You have to give me something in return."

"Like… credit?" Jazz asked.

"That works," Lilac said. "Of course, if you don't have any money, I sometimes trade in favors… only if I trust you, that is."

"I don't have any money… well, maybe thirty credit."

Lilac shook her helm. "Not enough. So let's see. Jazz, was it? What can you give me to fix you?"

Jazz shrugged, then winced. "Don't know."

"I'd say you need quite a bit of work. Probably seventy or eighty credit worth, since…" she scanned him. "…it's just on the surface. Huh." She frowned.

"What?" Jazz said.

Lilac looked into his optics. "You'd better be careful," she said. "This actually isn't so bad. Hurts like the inferno, I bet. Some mechs are good at this sort of thing."

Jazz met her gaze. "Like Branchbinder?"

Lilac huffed a sigh. "Branchbinder. Half the time I wish he'd do us all a favor and jump off a real tall building. The other half the time, I kind of like him." she shook her helm. "Know what, I'll do this one for a favor. You ever get a really good chance—a really good chance mind you—you put a knife in Branchbinder's spark chamber. Promise?"

"Uh…" Jazz said.

"What?"

"I've never killed anymech."

"Well, I'm sure by the time you ever get a good chance to off Branch, you will have." Lilac said. "He's got optics in the back of his helm, so don't go out of your way, but if a good opportunity shows up… can I count on you?"

Jazz looked down. "Okay… is this a normal sort of favor ya ask for?"

Lilac laughed. "No. Sorry. It's a real one, though. If Branch is taking any special interest in you, you must be something special, so maybe you _will_ have an opportunity one of these orns. And I'd rather take any opportunity I can to get rid of that mech."

"Why?" Jazz asked.

Lilac smiled. "I think that's my business, don't you? So, is it a deal?"

"Sure," Jazz said. He didn't think he'd ever have to make good on that promise.

"Next time, you're paying me with money," Lilac said. "Ok? Let's see, I think I'll start with your leg. That looks pretty painful." She opened up the casing on the joint and got to work. Jazz shuttered his optics, but didn't make a sound, even though it hurt. After a few breems, she was finished with the joint.

"Okay," she said. "Jazz, I'm going to show you something. Not squeamish, are you?"

Jazz shook his helm.

"Look here," Lilac opened up his leg and showed the wires and machinery under his mesh. It wasn't comfortable. She ought to be using some kind of painkiller. "See this wire, right here?" She hooked a finger under a thin cable. Jazz choked on a gasp.

"Yeah, it's pretty sensitive, huh?" Lilac said. "You'll want to learn to recognize it, though. This is part of your sensory net. You can tell because of the thickness and material this cable's made from. If you follow it up, it goes all the way to your pain grid and motor relays." She transformed one hand into a slim blade. "And if you cut it—brace yourself…"

There was an instant of blinding pain that receded quickly.

"…okay?"

"Yeah," Jazz said.

"Now," she tapped on his dented and scraped leg. "Feel anything?"

"No," Jazz said.

"This cable is pretty easy to replace," Lilac said. "If you know you're in for something unpleasant, and you have a spare moment beforehand, you can find these and cut them. Of course, you'll still feel some things, but your arms and legs won't bother you. You might have a hard time doing much with these cables cut—you'll be really clumsy since you can't feel anything. Oh, and if you want to cut _all_ sensory input, you can find the cable in your neck. I don't advise that, though, because you'll lose your optics and audios as well."

Jazz didn't want to think about why she might be telling him all of this. "Uh… thanks, I guess?"

"Don't mention it," Lilac said. "Just means you owe me. Here, you want a pain chip?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay. Don't leave it in too long, though, you know they stop working after a few joors."

Jazz shuttered his optics as she accessed a port in the back of his neck and slipped a pain chip in. He vented a sigh as relief washed over his entire frame.

Then he chatted idly with Lilac while she worked, until she was finished and sent him out of her office.

After that, he went back to his 'room' to continue to work on hacking into the security system. He nearly forgot to take the pain chip out, but remembered when his leg started to ache again.

* * *

By the time Branchbinder commed him the next orn and told him to meet in the hold, Jazz was ready. He took a shortcut he'd found on some schematics for headquarters, and was there before Branchbinder himself.

When Branchbinder came in, he seemed a little surprised to see Jazz there already, but didn't say anything about it. Instead he just walked over to a large crate and sat on it.

"Okay," he said. "I see you found your way to the medical ward."

"Medical ward? Ya have one of those?"

Branchbinder shook his helm. "Ah, maybe not then. Lilac's not the only medic we have. She is the best, though, if you're in her good graces."

"Are you?" Jazz asked.

"I'm her favorite," Branchbinder said with a smirk. "So. Any more excursions out into the city?"

"Nope," Jazz said. "Just this." He unsubspaced the datapad, and pulled up the entire security system on it, complete with cameras, pass codes for the doors, and detailed schematics that included secret passageways. He tossed the datapad to Branchbinder, who caught it and studied it thoughtfully.

"Not bad," he said.

"And you," Jazz said. "You didn't have two jobs."

"No?" Branchbinder said. "So you think I'm just a recruiter?"

"Nope," Jazz said. "Recruiter is one function. Another used ta be making sure everyone was loyal. Ya'd get them all ta trust ya and then if they ever planned ta desert, or ta sell Quantum out, ya'd let the boss know."

Branchbinder nodded.

"And I think there's gotta be something else too," Jazz said. "A third function. Something ta do with fighting, or ya wouldn't need ta be such a good fighter."

"Maybe I fight for fun."

"Then ya wouldn't be professional about it. I got a friend, name of Sunstreaker. He's the most brilliant artist I've ever known, but he's not goin' anywhere with it, cuz he's not gonna sell any of his paintings or go ta art school. If it's just for fun, ya don't ever reach a professional level of excellence. Ya don't fight just for fun, Branchbinder."

Branchbinder nodded. "Fair enough."

"Was I right?"

"You think I'm going to answer that?"

"Oh," Jazz said. "Another thing. Ya said I would be going into security. Ya want me ta replace you, don't ya? Making sure everymech's loyal."

"Smarter than you look," Branchbinder smirked. "Now, I've got to give you a tour of the rest of the place, and then I can teach you to spar for a while. After that, I'm busy. Your official assignment in Quantum will be on a team of specialists. According to everyone else, you're just another one of them. I'm not training you to do anything, and you're not a hacker." Branchbinder tossed his datapad back at him. "Got that?"

Jazz nodded.

"Good," Branchbinder said. "Now come on, I'll give you the basics about everything Quantum does. Since you know more than most mecha, you're going to be more closely watched, understood?"

Jazz nodded. No tricks. No treachery.

Branchbinder used the blueprints Jazz had found to give him a virtual tour instead of actually going places. Jazz was surprised at how easy it was to accept all the horrible things Quantum was a part of. It was probably just because he was sitting in a quiet room full of boxes, not really seeing any of it happen. When Branchbinder was done explaining the system, he started trying to train Jazz. Still feeling stiff and sore from the previous orn, Jazz found it difficult to concentrate. And Branchbinder was _not_ the kind of teacher Yoketron had been.

Master Yoketron had been patient but firm and fair. Branchbinder was… brutal and harsh, bordering on cruel. After they were finished, Jazz was sent to meet with his team.

He wondered as he left the hold, what Yoketron would think if he could see Jazz now. He had been terribly disappointed in Jazz when Jazz had let Motormaster try to kill Soundwave. Now Jazz was working for a criminal organization, using skills Yoketron had taught him for illegal purposes.

Well, it wasn't as if Jazz had a choice at this point. He couldn't back out now, they would kill him. He hadn't exactly chosen this path. It had been Stonethrow who'd gotten them all wrapped up in this.

"Hey."

Jazz turned to see the leader of the team he'd had been ostensibly assigned to approaching him. She was large for a femme, painted black. Her designation was Midnight, and Jazz had been cautioned not to get on her bad side.

"Hello."

"So," she said, sitting down at his table. "You're with my team, like your crazy friend."

Jazz nodded.

"They took a while determining what you'd do," she said.

Jazz shrugged.

"I wouldn't care, but it matters what they might have wanted you for, because I need to know my team. Your friend was easy. They gave him to me because he'll do just about anything I ask, except sit still. You're different. What are you?"

Jazz shrugged again.

"Can you fight?"

"Yes."

"Hack?"

"Not really."

"Well, you're pretty small. You'll fit in little spaces. I can use you, no problem. Just want to make sure you don't want any particular position. What are you good at, mech?"

Jazz tilted his helm to the side, thinking.

"Don't take all orn," Midnight said.

"I'm good at finding things. And hiding things."

"How about breaking things? Not smashing, just breaking."

"What kinda things?"

"Machines. We do quite a bit of industrial sabotage. You know, glitch up some factory machinery so the Council has to pay for new stuff. Then we intercept some of the credit as it comes through the system."

Jazz nodded.

"You didn't sound surprised." Midnight said, "Which I take to mean someone else told you we do that sort of thing."

"Nah," Jazz said. "It's just hard to surprise me."

Midnight looked at him, as if trying to determine whether he was telling the truth. "All right then," she said. "We've got a mission in five joors."

"So…" Jazz said. "Industrial sabotage… is that what your team specializes in?"

"My team specializes in everything," Midnight said. "If they don't know who to send, they send us. Here are coordinates. I'll see you in four and a half joors."

She got up and left the table.

* * *

The off-cycle was lit by glowing cracks in the street. Jazz slipped around the corner. He'd made sure to send Branchbinder a message to let him know he was going to be gone this off-cycle. There were about twenty mecha at the place Midnight had told him to meet. Factories and energon refineries belched smoke into the atmosphere, even at this time of the off-cycle.

Stonethrow bounded over to him. "Hey."

Jazz nodded.

"They put you on this team too!"

"Yep," Jazz said.

"Excited?" the other mech bounced on his pedes. "I'm so excited."

Jazz just shrugged.

He was pretty sure they were about to do something illegal. Something much more illegal than he'd ever done before.

They waited for a few more breems and another couple of mecha showed up. Midnight stepped forward.

"Ok," she said. "We're on a supply run this orn. Most of you know the drill. Beta team take the south entrance. Wait for the gate to open. Alpha team's with me. If you don't know what team you're on, you're on Beta. Centrifuge."

A big mech standing to her left nodded and spoke. "Ok, Beta team, let's go." He turned and walked away and the majority of the mecha followed him.

Midnight caught Jazz's shoulder as he made to go with them. "You scared of small spaces?"

"No." Jazz said.

"Ok, let's try something. You're coming with us."

Jazz nodded, then followed the five other mecha with Midnight. He was surprised at how quiet they all were as they walked toward a nearby energon refinery. He tried to be silent as well, but it was hard to hide the sound of pedes on the ground. There was a high fence all the way around the building. A tall, slim mech jumped up and started scaling it, weaving back and forth instead of going straight up, as if he were trying to avoid some sort of invisible obstacle. He got to the top and dropped down on the inside. There was a small building there, like some sort of guard station. The Quantum mech crept around the building and then they waited in silence. Jazz took in a deep vent and let it out slowly, which earned him annoyed looks from some of the other mecha in the group. He had no doubt they were comming Midnight asking why she'd brought him along. He felt so loud and clumsy.

The tall mech came back around the building and tossed something over the fence.

A femme on the outside caught it, and Midnight gestured to the mech who'd climbed over the fence, who nodded and melted into the shadows.

The others started running along the fence. Jazz followed them, watching how they skillfully avoided cameras. He could hear his own pedes on the ground a lot louder than he could hear everyone else. He needed to ask them how they did that. He'd always thought of himself as sneaky, but he was nothing compared to these mecha.

They got to a gate where a mech stood guard. Everyone stopped running and stood in the shadows. Jazz was just about to ask what they were going to do when he got a comm. It was an open channel between the six of them.

" _He's too far away from the building,"_ someone said.

" _Well, not all of us can get up that fence, and we can't wait to go in with Beta team."_

" _Is there another gate?"_

" _Come on, let's go."_ Midnight's voice said, and they followed her again, around the building until they got to another gate that wasn't guarded.

The femme who'd caught the data chip the mech had tossed over the fence approached the door and slipped it into a port in the back of her hand. She started messing with the lock, probably trying to hack it.

It took about half a breem, and then the little gate opened. Midnight waved everyone through. They headed around the building again, keeping to the shadows and staying out of the cameras' line of sight as much as possible. They got to the little guard building, and the mech who'd climbed the fence showed up again.

They hacked the door open and Midnight and one of the other mechs went in. Jazz heard a shout, and then there was silence again for a few astroseconds before Midnight stuck her helm out and waved the rest of them inside. Jazz hesitated in the doorway, but the mech behind him shoved him forward.

The two guards who'd been here were lying on the floor with spreading pools of energon underneath them. Jazz was suddenly brought back to the moment in secondary school when Motormaster had broken Soundwave's visor against the table.

He took a deep vent and looked away, feeling cold, almost numb. Those mechs were dead, not just unconscious. Dead. Permanently offline.

Midnight and the femme who'd hacked the doors open were talking quietly as they messed with the equipment.

"There," the other femme said. "Got it. The gate's open, and the south door too. And I'll have blueprints in half a breem.

"Good," Midnight said. "You and Murk stay here. The rest of us are going in."

Jazz stepped away as a stream of energon spread to where his pede was.

"Come on, mechling," Midnight said to him and he followed them out of the little guard station and toward the building. He hoped they didn't run into anyone else—he didn't want to see anyone die.

Primus, what had he gotten himself into? This had been kind of fun, until that…

He shoved his emotions down, trying to think clearly. He was with a group of mecha who didn't care about killing and if he made them mad or if he got them caught, it could be him on the ground leaking fluids all over the floor. He needed to keep his helm in the game and survive this and then maybe he could figure out a way to get himself out of this mess.

They approached the building and Midnight held an energon-stained piece of an arm plate to the scanner lock. It beeped and the door opened.

It was dark and silent in the energon refinery. Jazz got a message file through his comm. When he opened it, it was the blueprints of the building. He studied them as they moved. Cameras were marked, and there were some notes about guard patterns too. The group seemed to be headed to a yellow dot on the map.

These mecha really knew what they were doing.

" _Ok, mechling,"_ Midnight said. _"Got a job for you. You said you're good at finding things. You and Talon are going to find us a piece of equipment. It'll be on the refinery machines. I'll send you schematics. Take it out and bring it to the yellow dot on the blueprints. Got that?"_

" _Ok,"_ Jazz said over the comm. and opened the file. He and one of the other mechs broke off from the group. He followed, assuming the other mech knew where they were going.

They got to a room lit only by emergency lights on the floor.

"Ok," Talon said quietly. "The piece we need is highlighted on the schematics. It's back behind the refiners. Here…" He pulled a blowtorch out of subspace. "See if you can crawl in between the wall and those big drums and get to the part we need."

Jazz nodded and took the torch. He crouched, then crawled under the giant refinery machines, trying to squeeze his way to the back. It got a little tight, but he managed.

"First time you seen dead mecha?"

"Yup," Jazz said. He pulled up the schematics in his processor and stared at them for a few breems before setting them to display in the corner of his vision. He tried to visualize spatially where he was and where he could cut through this thing so he could reach the piece they wanted.

"I could tell. You looked pretty freaked out. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Jazz frowned, feeling suddenly sick.

"You got it? You think you can find it?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "Give me a breem." He really couldn't fathom why they'd wanted it, but he wasn't going to argue. He turned the laser torch on and started cutting.

"Faster we do this, faster we can get out. You aren't doing too bad, though. Lotta new mechs purge their tanks when they see dead guards."

Jazz glared at the metal machinery around him. He needed to focus on something else—focus on what he was doing. He finished cutting and pulled the lumpy shape out of the machine, hissing as he burned his fingers on the melted edges.

Then he peered into the dark interior of the machine. He had to turn the brightness of his optics up almost all the way to see the mechanisms on the inside.

The piece they needed was right where he'd expected it to be.

"I found it." He checked the schematics, trying to see if there were any directions for disconnecting it. It seemed welded on. He didn't want to damage it, so he just started cutting around it with the laser torch.

"Don't break it."

Jazz pulled on it and it came free. He got rid of the schematics and subspaced it, then crawled back out from under the refiner. It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic at all.

He managed to get out without scraping any paint off and pulled the thing out of subspace. Talon took it.

"You're pretty quick. But you're really noisy."

"I know," Jazz said. "Ya mechs are so quiet… maybe ya can teach me?"

"Sure," Talon said. "Maybe."

They followed the blueprints to the yellow dot which was only a few rooms away.

Everyone else was there, by a row of giant canisters. The Beta team was siphoning off large cubes of energon from the canisters and passing them to a large mech who subspaced them.

Talon gave the piece to the mech who'd stayed with Midnight, who looked it over, then knelt on the ground and got some tools out of subspace.

Everyone was still very quiet—even Stonethrow—as they watched.

So, they were stealing energon—that wasn't a surprise. But what was the piece for? He spoke to Talon over the comm channel they still had open. _"So… what's going on?"_

" _We're going to take as much 'gon as we can, and then blow the place. But we have to use stuff from in here to make the bomb so they think it was an accident and can't trace it back to us. Just wait this part out, I don't think you have to do anything else."_

Jazz nodded, and watched, feeling tense, hoping no guards showed up. None did. The mech who was taking the cubes seemed to have a _lot_ of subspace. They'd probably taken four or five giant tanks' worth before they ran out of boxes.

"Ok, Beta team get out of here," Midnight said. "Jazz and I will go get Swallow and Murk. Friction, you know what to do."

The mech who'd been working with the tools nodded.

Midnight led Jazz in silence back through the building. She made practically no sound at all, as she crept through the dark hallways.

They got out and met the two who'd stayed behind in the guard building.

"The cameras won't show anything suspicious," the femme, Swallow, said. "We good to go?"

Midnight nodded and sent out a group comm. _"Hey, Alpha team, meet three blocks to the west. Beta team, I want you to disperse. No speeding now, mechs, you're just going about your business. Ok, break."_

Midnight, Jazz, and the others left the way they'd come and walked two blocks south. They could still see the building.

"So," Jazz said quietly. "Energon crystals are lots more volatile than processed energon."

Midnight nodded, looking at him like she wasn't sure why he was talking to her.

"I didn't see how much they had in there," Jazz said. "But on the blueprints, the room where they were keeping the crystals looked pretty big."

He heard engines and two alts came around the corner and transformed.

"All good?" Midnight asked

Before Friction could answer, there was a loud bang and a cloud of fire lit up the building down the street. They all watched as it filled the sky with boiling light. Heat washed over them and debris peppered them. Then it faded out.

"Nice," Talon said appreciatively.

"Ok," Midnight turned. "Let's go."

They all followed her out into the street and back toward headquarters at a leisurely pace, passing the rescue and emergency vehicles racing the other way.

There had been guards in that building. He'd seen them marked on the blueprints as moving red dots.

They were dead now.


	7. Lies

"So," Jazz said. "The supply run…"

Branchbinder didn't look up. "Yes?"

"Ya have deals with the Council. I bet they don't want ya ta steal their energon and blow up their refineries."

"You think?"

"That's what all the secrecy is about, so they think it was an accident, so they don't realize ya aren't holding up your end of the deal."

"See, you're good at this," Branchbinder said. "Now go find something to do. I'm too busy to bother with you right now. Go make some friends. I'll have you come train in a few joors."

"Ok," Jazz said, and left Branchbinder's office, which he'd managed to find using the blueprints. He hadn't gotten much recharge the off-cycle before. He'd thought through some ways to get out of this mess. He and Vibes would have to disappear—they knew where she lived and could use her against him so he'd have to take her with him—and find somewhere safe to hide. He could do it…

But he was scared.

Branchbinder had resources he didn't know about, and if the mech hunted him down with the intention of killing him, Jazz _knew_ he could do it. If it was just him, he might be willing to take his chances, but he didn't want to put his femme creator in danger.

So for now he would stay.

He would stay until he knew enough to get out of here safely, and then he would run. Should he tell his friends? Should he take them with him? He wasn't sure. Blackangle and Stonethrow seemed to be happy with this situation, but the twins might want out.

One orn at a time—he didn't have to worry about that yet.

* * *

It seemed like a different group of mecha were at the lounge every time he showed up. He headed for a table with a few empty chairs and introduced himself. He made sure not to talk to too many different mecha because he didn't want it to look like he was taking a survey or trying to meet everyone. They had to think he was fairly normal.

He was there for a long time, making friends, joking, occasionally laughing with them. Mecha came and left.

At a certain point, Midnight showed up. She sat at a table by herself, and Jazz caught her watching him after a while. He waited until he had a good opportunity and then went over to her.

"Making friends?" she said.

"Yeah."

"You like mecha, don't you?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "Mecha are great."

"No, they're annoying."

Jazz shrugged.

"Including you." She glared at him. "In any case, you stayed pretty calm last off-cycle. Focused too. I'm not sorry I pulled you for Alpha team, though I only did it because you're small. We might let you join permanently at some point. You have things to learn first, though. I'll tell you where Murk's room is and you can go find him. If you tell him I sent you, he'll teach you to move more quietly."

Cool. "Thanks," Jazz said.

Midnight quirked an optic ridge. "Cheerful much?"

"Most of the time," Jazz said.

"Another thing, you need to find a way to hide that brand on your faceplate. You can't go out in public like that, at least not in the on-cycle. Get some sort of mask or visor or something."

Jazz nodded. He wasn't really sure where he could get something like that if he couldn't leave base. Maybe he'd ask Branchbinder about it.

Midngiht gave Jazz directions to get to Murk's room, and then got up and walked away. She got some energon and crossed the room to sit at a different empty table.

Fine then.

Jazz went to go find Murk.

Quantum headquarters was hexagonal, like the school in Kalis, so sometimes it brought him back to when he'd been hanging out with Verdict and Motormaster. If he'd known then that he'd never be able to escape this sort of thing, maybe he would have mustered the courage to stand up to them. He hadn't really _wanted_ to help them take down Searchlight and Soundwave. Granted it had been fun, especially in the beginning, right when they'd started to fight back. But by the end, he'd just wanted it to be over.

He got to the door Midnight's directions had led him to, and hit the entry request button. Then he waited. After a few astroseconds, the femme, Swallow, from the off-cycle before opened it.

"Yeah?" she said, looking annoyed.

"Hey… Midnight sent me here. She wanted me ta talk ta Murk."

"Oh," Swallow said. "Ok, wait here a moment." She shut the door. Jazz glanced around the hallway, identifying a camera in the corner. It actually would be good, he thought, to have some sort of visor. Then no one would know where he was looking.

The door opened again and Murk came out. "Yeah?" he said, glaring.

"Hey, mech," Jazz said. "Midnight sent me. She said ya could teach me ta move silently."

"Huh…" Murk said. "She must have taken a liking to you, seventeener."

Jazz smiled slightly at the reference to his home sector. "I guess."

"Well, I was recharging, mech, so you know… some other time, ok?"

Jazz nodded.

"Maybe next orn or something. Do I have your comm?" Murk asked.

"Don't think so."

They exchanged contact information and Jazz left. He went back to the lounge and made some more acquaintances. By the time Branchbinder commed him and ordered him to come so they could train, Jazz knew more than a hundred mecha and would probably be able to pick most of them out in a crowd.

* * *

Over the next several orns, Jazz fell into a pattern as he made friends, and trained with Branchbinder and Murk. Neither of them were very patient teachers, but Jazz was progressing. He practiced moving quietly all the time—in the lounge, walking back to his room, and even when he was with Branchbinder.

Branchbinder, he noticed, moved so quietly you couldn't ever hear his pedes on the ground most of the time.

Training with him was very unpredictable. Sometimes the mech would just feed him information about Quantum and quiz him on who he knew and what teams they were on. Sometimes he would train him how to fight. That wasn't nearly as fun, but desperation made Jazz a fast learner.

He found that it was kind of a fun game in a way. The things he was learning how to do—talking to mecha and putting them at ease before drawing out information from them, moving silently, fighting, and everything else. But there was always that longing anxiety too. He needed to leave. This wasn't his scene, not really, and he didn't want to be here.

So he worked hard, not only because he wanted the skills he was developing, but because he wanted to use them to escape before it was too late.

They paid him, and he was able to order a visor and pay Lilac to install it. By that point he was kind of sick of seeing the word written across his faceplate every time he looked at anything reflective, so he was glad to be able to conceal it. The visor looked good too, and it made lying easier.

It wasn't too long before Midnight brought him on another mission. This time, they were doing another supply run, though it wasn't energon they were going to be stealing, and Jazz was on Beta team.

"Hey," Stonethrow said when Jazz showed up. "What's up?"

"Not much."

"Nice visor."

"Thanks, mech."

"Covers up your brand."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "That's the idea. How are ya?"

"This is great!" Stonethrow said. "I've been on a bunch of missions already. The only really rusty thing about it is that I have to go get a normal job too."

Jazz nodded. Most of the mecha in Quantum got to leave—got to live lives outside of this place. Jazz wasn't so lucky.

"But this is still exciting."

"Ya've been on a bunch of missions?"

"Yeah," Stonethrow said. "It's super fun."

"Shut up," one of the other mecha said.

Stonethrow shut his lip plates.

Telling Stonethrow to shut up was usually akin to pouring oil on open flames. The fact that he had actually listened was almost worrying.

Then again, the real world was a different sort of place.

Stonethrow didn't stay quiet though. He started chatting again within a breem and then Midnight and a few others showed up.

"Ok," she said. "This orn, we're going to the south forge. They've got a new shipment of raw durusium and we're going to take as much as we can."

"What would we do with that?" Jazz wondered out loud.

Midnight shot him an unfriendly look. "You aren't here to ask irrelevant questions. Beta team, there'll be a way in coming up from the lower levels. Just wait for our signal. We've been in this one before, so we've got the blueprints already."

A file came through his comm and he opened it. The building seemed larger and more fortified than the energon refinery.

"We don't need to be sneaky this time," Midnight said. "You see guards, you take them out, got it?"

There was a general nodding.

"Ok, break."

Jazz went with the larger group, watching carefully for other mecha on the streets. It would be best if no one noticed them—they made a suspicious-looking group.

He trailed near the back end, trying to move quietly. It was hard to tell if he was succeeding, though, because there were too many other mecha making noise. They went down some stairs, to a lower level of the city.

Durusium was an alloy that was difficult to manufacture. It was used mostly to make weapons—blades specifically. Quantum couldn't use the raw material, but maybe they were going to sell it?

They'd have to be careful in any case—if the alarms went off, they could get trapped in there.

They reached their entry point—a small access door that was locked and monitored by a camera.

And now they needed to wait for Swallow to hack the security system so they could get in through the door.

Astroseconds ticked by, turning into breems. They waited.

And then finally, Midnight's voice came over the open comm. channel. _"Ok, the camera's out. We thought we were going to be able to unlock your door from here, but turns out we can't. You'll have to hack the lock or bust it open yourselves. But hurry, or we might not have much time."_

" _Jazz can hack the lock,"_ Stonethrow said.

Oh pit.

Midnight was silent for a moment. _"Can you?"_

" _Maybe,"_ Jazz said.

" _Well, do it if you can,"_ Midnight said. _"We don't have time."_

Jazz's spark sank as he approached the door. He'd told her he couldn't hack, and now she'd know he was lying. He made sure to take about twice as long as he needed to get it open.

They filed in and he fell back to walk next to Stonethrow, who seemed to sense his mood.

"Did you not want me to say that?" he wondered.

"Doesn't matter," Jazz said.

"Why do you have to be mad at me? I just said…"

"Shut up!" one of the others hissed.

They were quieter now they were inside and there was a reason for everyone to try to sneak, but they were still making more noise than was optimal. Jazz really hoped they didn't run into any guards. As far as he knew, they weren't going to blow this place up, so if they didn't meet any guards, no one would have to offline.

Eventually, they met up with Alpha team—minus Murk who was probably in the building's security room. Midnight led them to the storage vault where they were keeping the durusium. Swallow went over to the big, reinforced-looking door. They waited while she messed with the controls and then inserted a small data chip into a port.

There was a ping and the door opened slightly.

" _Hey, you've got some guards coming,"_ Murk's voice came over the comm. channel. _"Other end of the hall, so if they see you, they'll have time to call for help."_

" _Get in the vault, or hide,"_ Midnight said.

Jazz ducked behind a stack of boxes while those closest to the big doors slipped in. Jazz saw Stonethrow across the hall, behind a pillar, and Midnight came and crouched next to Jazz. It was a good position. The guards could walk right past them without seeing them, provided they stayed still and quiet.

A few astroseconds later, Jazz saw light moving and assumed the guards had come around the corner. He focused on keeping his engine and vents running low and quiet. He couldn't hear Midnight at all, and she was still as a statue.

The guards approached. Jazz could hear their pedes on the metal floor.

They walked past. Jazz saw out of the corner of his optic as Stonethrow turned his helm to watch as they went past him.

One of them stopped, probably sensing the motion. "Hey!"

"Oh, hi…" Stonethrow stood. "Uh… what's up, mechs?"

They seemed surprised for an instant, and then suddenly Midnight crashed into one of them, knocking him into Stonethrow. Jazz watched, shocked, as she yanked an energon-dripping knife from the guard's back and threw herself at the second guard. He raised an arm to block, but she got him with a knife in her other hand. He cried out and fell. By the time he hit the ground, she had slammed the first knife into is spark chamber, through the front, and the second knife into his neck, cutting off his scream.

The first guard slid to the ground, leaving Stonethrow standing against the wall.

Midnight turned on him. He yelped as she shoved him backward and buried one of her knives in the wall right next to his helm.

"Next time I'll kill you too," she said softly. "When you're hiding, don't _move,_ frag it!"

Stonethrow shuttered his optics.

Midnight pushed away from the wall and subspaced her knives. _"Coast is clear."_

The door to the storage space opened and the others filed in. Stonethrow slid to the ground and put his helm in his hands. Jazz went over and knelt by him, aware that Midnight was watching him.

"Hey, you ok?"

Stonethrow nodded and let Jazz pull him to his pedes.

"That really was stupid, though."

"I know."

"Come on."

They went into the storage unit, which was full of durusium. Midnight counted it and had everyone load as much as they could into subspace, and then they split up again to head back out. Beta team ran into some more guards, and once again someone killed them. The alarms went off just as they were exiting the building, and they all transformed and sped through the lower streets for a few blocks before slowing down.

Jazz wondered if Alpha team had gotten out. The thought that they might not have made him feel sick, and the worst part was that he had just _seen_ Midnight murder two mecha, but he was still worried about her wellbeing.

Branchbinder commed him as soon as he got back—evidence that they probably had some sort of tracker on him, or that Branchbinder had been watching the cameras for him.

" _What were you doing?"_

" _I was on_ _a mission with Midnight's team. Is that a problem?"_

" _Your attitude is a problem."_

Jazz sighed.

" _When you're done, come talk to me."_

That was the last thing Jazz wanted to do right now.

"Ok," the mech who seemed to be in charge of Beta team this time said, "Everymech come on, we gotta dump the loot." He led the way to a small supply room, where everyone emptied all the durusium they had out of their subspace. Centrifuge counted it and then let them leave.

Jazz was heading for Branchbinder's office, but he ran into Midnight in the hall.

"You," she said. "I wanted to talk to you. Come on."

Well, Branchbinder had said when he was done. He couldn't say no to Midnight without getting in trouble. He followed her to a small room with a tidy desk and an impressive display of weapons on the wall. This must be her office.

"So," she said coldly. "You lied to me about being able to hack."

"Sorry about that," Jazz said.

Midnight frowned, crossing her arms. "Why?"

"I just…" Jazz had been thinking about what he should say to her on the way back. "I guess I was worried about ending up with some sort of desk job. I wanted ta see some action. I didn't realize ya needed hackers on missions." He wanted to tell her he wasn't very good at it, but she could go to Stonethrow who would be able to tell her the truth.

She seemed to consider his answer for an astrosecond.

"It's stupid…"

"You're right about that," she said. "If you have some skill in that regard, you should learn from Swallow as well as Murk. Murk says you're making quick progress, and I'd concur."

"Thanks."

"But lying to me makes it much less likely I'll put you on Alpha team. And I still don't know how well you can fight. We'll have to have Talon train you a little when he's doing better."

"He get hurt?"

Midnight nodded.

"Did anyone…"

"No one died this time," she said. "It doesn't matter. I'm done with you—you can go now."

Jazz nodded and turned to leave. Something hit him in the back of the helm, hard enough that he stumbled and his processor stalled. He held still, bracing himself to be hit again.

"Don't turn your back on someone who's angry with you," Midnight said. "Now get out of my office."

Jazz stood straight again and left, reaching up to feel the deep dent in the back of his helm. He headed to Branchbinder's office. The door opened as he approached.

"You're late," Branchbinder said.

"Midnight caught me in the hallway…"

"I don't really care."

"Branchbinder…?" If Jazz tried to hide this, it could be worse later.

"What?"

"I initially told Midnight I couldn't hack, but one of my friends mentioned I could while we were on the mission."

Branchbinder frowned. "Did she ask you why?"

"Yeah. I told her I was worried she'd put me at a desk job or something and..."

He scowled.

"Just thought I'd let ya know."

"She's probably still suspicious," Branchbinder said. "Oh well. What do you know about Midnight?"

He'd tried to get a little info about her. Spotlight had told him she'd been in Quantum as long as anyone could remember. "She's been here a while."

"And?"

"And she's good at what she does, and loyal, and probably pretty smart."

Branchbinder nodded. "She was sparked and raised Quantum. I don't think disloyalty occurs to her. If anyone were to find out what your true function was… it wouldn't be too bad if it was Midnight. At least, it wouldn't be too bad for Quantum. It'd definitely be a problem for you because I'd beat you within an inch of your life and lock you up for a quartex to impress upon you how important it is to keep your cover. So it's a good thing you didn't tell her."

Jazz looked down slightly.

"So, this orn is when it gets real," Branchbinder said. "You need to stop messing around and start doing your job. Have you identified anyone who seems to have feelings against Quantum, or who may be working for someone else?"

"Well… not really, not more than normal griping."

"What are you doing all that time you're in the lounge."

"Making friends?"

Branchbinder glared at him.

"That's what ya told me ta do."

"Are you _trying_ to make me angry?"

Jazz sighed, and put a hand to his still-throbbing helm. "Sorry. I know ya don't really care if I make friends. But I haven't seen anything suspicious yet." The twins had seemed unhappy about being in Quantum, but Jazz didn't want to draw Branchbinder's attention to them.

"Well, we know we _do_ have discontents and double-agents. We even have the occasional deserter."

Jazz took in a deep vent and let it out slowly.

"And it's your job to find them, so you'd better start doing that. I'll give you some tips, some things to look for."

Jazz nodded.

"I'm going to give you one decaorn to find a traitor."

He froze.

"Find a traitor, procure proof, and bring that information to me. Time starts now."

"Wait…"

"Don't talk back to me," Branchbinder said. "Figure it out. You're supposed to be some sort of genius and I want you taking your work seriously."

One decaorn.

"I don't have time to teach you anything now, but I wrote you a list of clues to look for and I've sent it to your datapad along with some files about mecha who've betrayed us in the past. Do your homework and then go back to the lounge and find us a traitor… Well? Got a problem with that, mechling?"

"Nope," Jazz said.

"Good."

Jazz almost turned to leave, but stopped. Midnight's words rang in his audios. Don't turn your back on someone who's angry at you.

"Did I say you could go?" Branchbinder asked.

"Ya need anything else?"

"You were late." Branchbinder got up.

Jazz took an involuntary half step away from him.

The other mech smirked and crossed his arms. "You can go," he said. "I want to see you in the big storage room next orn at five joors for sparring practice. And believe me, if you're late for _that_ , you'll regret it.

Jazz left, making sure never to fully turn his back on the other mech as he went. Not that he thought Branchbinder would attack him from behind, but it was a good principle to live by.

He made it to his room and shut and locked the door. There were probably cameras in here. He had access to most of the ones on the base by now, but not all of them.

He sat on the berth and put his helm in his hands anyway, not caring if anyone saw. He'd watched mecha offline this orn, and his helm felt like it was going to fall off, and he had a decaorn to find a traitor and it was already late in the off-cycle. Five joors next orn was not very far away.

He should have said no back when they'd been invited to join, and if he could go back, he'd change his answer. Now he was stuck. He was too scared of Branchbinder to try to escape.

He had brought this on himself, and for now, he would have to live with it. Vibes had always told him that sometimes you couldn't pick your current situation, but you _could_ choose your attitude about it. He was pretty sure she wasn't' talking about this sort of thing, but he wanted to stop being scared and miserable. He _was_ getting out of here. He _would_ find a way. He took a deep vent and let it out slowly.

If he didn't find a traitor within a decaorn, he was going to be in a lot of trouble, and in this place that usually equated to a lot of pain. He got out his datapad. Sure enough, Branchbinder had sent him two files. He hated reading long lists of things—he wished the mech would have talked to him instead.

Oh well. He lay on his berth and skimmed through the information. The files about the traitors were much more interesting than the list of things to look for. But he couldn't read it for long, because he started seeing behind the words. Some of these mecha had probably been good mecha. He got to a file about an undercover enforcer who'd joined to gather information and possibly try to bring down the organization. Jazz read through his list of goals, and things he'd managed to leak back to enforcement. He didn't want to wonder how Quantum had acquired that list.

He shut the datapad off, trying to tell himself it didn't matter. He wouldn't find that kind of traitor. He'd find a real traitor, someone who wasn't trying to do the right thing, who was only helping himself.

He turned his datapad back on and kept reading, letting his processor wander as his optics skimmed the words, until he wasn't paying attention to what was in the file at all. After a few breems, he had an idea.


	8. Alpha Team

He was only limping slightly the next orn when he entered the lounge. Nothing bad enough to bother Lilac about.

"Hey," Friction said when Jazz sat down at the his table. "You all right?"

Jazz nodded. "Fine, mech."

"Someone got it in for you or something?" Friction shoved Jazz's shoulder gently and Jazz winced. "You tell me who it is and Talon and I will pummel him for you."

Jazz smiled. He highly doubted that. "Thanks for the sentiment, but it's fine."

If only he _did_ have someone who could scare Branchbinder off. But that mech was scarier than Midnight, and that was saying something

"Can't just lie down and take it," Friction said. "Besides, I think Spotlight's already spreading rumors that someone's beating you up all the time and there are a thousand guesses who."

"Maybe I got an evil twin."

Friction shook his helm. "It doesn't really make sense. You're friendly and likeable enough."

"Maybe my evil twin's jealous of my ability ta make friends."

"Shut the frag up, you don't have an evil twin."

"How would ya know if I did? He might look just like me."

Friction snorted and shook his helm.

Spotlight came over. "Hi mechs! Late off-cycle, Jazz? You look half-dead."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "And I've been up since five joors too. It rusts."

"Poor sparkling," Spotlight said. "Go get some rest or something."

Spotlight, he realized, was in an excellent position to do his job. She had an excuse to be here all the time, and mecha talked more freely when they were over-energized.

He wondered why she wasn't the one making sure everyone was loyal. Maybe they didn't trust her.

Jazz sat in the lounge for several joors. Through the lens of trying to find traitors, everyone seemed suspicious. It didn't change _that_ much. He already didn't trust any of them, but it was kind of frustrating all the same. He supposed anyone who was a traitor who hadn't been caught yet was probably good at blending in.

When he was tired of the lounge, he wandered the halls, looking for cameras, and ended up at his room where he used his datapad to hack deeper into the central computer system. Branchbinder had checked the datapad once or twice, probably to make sure he wasn't doing anything extracurricular on it, but Jazz was better at covering his tracks than Branchbinder was at checking the device's access history. He pretty much had everything now—not that he knew what to do with it. Enforcement had deals with Quantum, and so did the Council. In fact, the government was their biggest supplier _and_ their biggest client. Quantum and the Polyhex Council were like two parasites feeding off of each other.

If he went public with all this info, it would just make an enormous, enormous mess, which he didn't want. Besides, if he told anyone about it, Branchbinder might actually literally kill him. So, for now, he'd just gather the information. He wasn't going to put his life at risk, even to expose Quantum's secrets.

But he _could_ use it to start looking for a traitor, and hope Branchbinder wouldn't be too mad that he'd made use of resources he wasn't supposed to have.

He started looking for Quantum's accounting records. The whole thing with the durusium had given him the idea. They were definitely selling it to someone, and they had been careful to count it and make sure no one took it for themselves to sell individually.

But with so many mecha here who didn't care about rules and were only trying to help themselves, surely someone would have managed to steal from Quantum somehow. And if he could find where they kept track of all their credit, he could code a program to look for discrepancies and trace them back to whoever had caused them. It might be kind of hard to get exact results, and Quantum's records probably weren't perfect, but it was a start.

He'd find something within a decaorn, for certain.

He also ought to look up some sort of basic medical manual, because he wanted to learn how to do simple repairs on himself, just in case.

He could do this. In fact, in some ways, he was looking forward to staying with Quantum for a while. He'd learn everything he could, and then when he was done he'd just disappear into thin atmosphere.

That would show them.

* * *

"Hey, Jazz."

He looked up from his conversation to see Talon heading toward him.

"Hey, mech," he said.

"Come here."

Slightly nervous, but careful not to show it, Jazz got up and followed him out into the hallway.

"How ya doing?" he asked. "I heard ya got hurt." It had been three orns since the supply run.

"I'm fine now, thanks," Talon said. "One of the guards got in a lucky hit. Good thing Murk was there, cuz Midnight…" he glanced up at the corner of the hall as if looking for a camera.

"Might have left ya there?"

He shrugged. "Hey, it's how she was raised. She's a good femme, though, just practical. In any case, she wants me to give you a few pointers on fighting. Come on, I know a good place where nomech will bother us."

Jazz didn't realize they were leaving the building until they were at the door. He commed Branchbinder and didn't wait for the other mech to reply before sending his message. _"Hey, mech, Midnight wants me ta train with someone and he wants me to leave headquarters, is that ok?"_

He waited. If they got to the door, he'd have to go out without permission and face the consequences.

But Branchbinder answered. _"Right now?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _Fine."_

He didn't sound happy about it, but at least he hadn't said no.

And Jazz really wasn't looking forward to another sparring session. He was still aching from the morning's lesson with Branchbinder. He followed Talon out into the city and to a big empty cave one level down.

"Ok, so do you have any experience fighting yet?"

Jazz nodded. "I got some training."

"Good, cuz I'm not a great teacher. Let's see… why don't you try to attack me? You got a weapon?"

"A knife," Jazz said.

Talon snorted and pulled a gun from subspace. One of his hands shifted into a big blade. "You need to get yourself some weapons," he said. "I can show you where to buy them. They'll even install integrated ones right there."

"Ok," Jazz said, pulling out his knife.

"But for now, let's not do weapons," Talon put his away. "Just… attack me."

Ok then.

Jazz quickly closed the distance between them, dodged, then tripped the other mech and shoved him to the ground.

Talon grinned and grabbed at Jazz's pedes, trying to pull him down too, but Jazz skipped out of reach. Then Talon got up and attacked, but Jazz evaded him easily and then sent him crashing to the ground again.

"You're fast," Talon said. "Ok, we can graduate to weapons then."

That went about the same. They had a brief rematch that ended with Talon on the ground with Jazz's knife pressing into the back of his neck.

"Ok, get off," Talon said, and Jazz backed away and let him stand.

"You don't need me to train you do you?"

That was a relief. "Guess not."

"Well, let's go talk to Midnight about it. You're Alpha team material if anyone ever was."

They went back to base. Jazz wasn't sure if he should comm. Branchbinder or not. There was a delicate balance between reporting regularly and annoying him.

Talon took him to Midnight's office, and knocked on the door.

Jazz raised an optic ridge.

"She doesn't like the sound of the entry request," Talon said. "She sometimes gets grumpy if you push the button. Word to the wise."

Jazz nodded. He'd remember that.

Midnight opened the door. "Come in."

Jazz followed Talon in, still trying to act like he wasn't nervous. The last time he'd been in here, Midnight had given him a dent in his helm that still hadn't popped out all the way.

"So," Talon said. "I took him out to teach him how to fight and there isn't anything to teach him. He knows it all."

Midnight frowned at him. Yeah, she was definitely suspicious. If he hadn't been training with Branchbinder, he probably wouldn't be so good at fighting. Even over just a few decaorns, he'd gone from knowing a few circuit-su moves to knowing how to fend off an assassin.

An assassin. Branchbinder was an assassin.

"So, you can fight," Midnight said. "Like you told me. Where did you learn?"

"I was trained in Circuit-Su."

She narrowed her optics. "That's fake fighting…" she sighed. "I suppose that makes sense though."

Talon glanced between Jazz and Midnight, looking a little curious. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he's probably going to be useless in an actual fight, but with some practice he should be fine."

"Hey, we sparred and I had my aft handed to me," Talon said. "I don't think we have to worry about him in a fight."

"Like I said, I'm sure he can learn."

"And I think he's definitely Alpha team material."

Midnight nodded. "Yes. You can take him next off-cycle to prove himself… or even this off-cycle, if you want."

"Awesome," Talon said. "We'll do that."

Midnight nodded. "And you'd better not fail, mechling."

Jazz nodded, though he had no idea what he'd be going to do. He could tell from her expression that she didn't have much faith in him.

He and Talon left Midnight's office.

"So…" Jazz said. "What's am I supposed ta do ta prove myself?"

"Don't worry about it," Talon said. "You'd be able to do it even if you didn't have fighting skills. Meet me out in the city this off-cycle. I'll send you some coordinates. Ok?"

Jazz nodded, but he was a little worried about this.

He went back to the lounge to talk to more mecha. He had a short list of those who could be traitors and he might be able to catch one of them before the end of the orn.

* * *

Branchbinder turned around to see Midnight standing behind him. He almost jumped—not too many mecha could sneak up on him. He tried to hide that he'd been startled, but a very slight quirk of her lip plates told him she'd noticed anyway.

"Can I help you?" he said.

"I'm worried about one of the new mechs on my team. Were you the one who found him?"

"What's his designation?"

"Jazz," Midnight said.

Branchbinder nodded. "Yes, him. A valuable asset. I did find him first."

"He's keeping secrets, I can smell them. _And_ he can hack and fight and he's a fast learner, but he doesn't want to be here. I don't think he's trustworthy."

"If he doesn't want to be here, then why hasn't he run for it?" Branchbinder said.

"Maybe he's working for someone outside of Quantum."

Mightnight was smart. She might think that, or she might have guessed the truth, especially if she noticed how much time Jazz spent on base.

But she wasn't subtle enough that he was going to take the bait and give her more information than she needed.

"Eh," Branchbinder said. "You worry too much."

"I'm wary of putting him on my Alpha team," Midnight said. "But we'll see. If he fails, can I kill him?"

They couldn't have anyone killing Jazz. "I would like you ensure that he _doesn't_ fail," Branchbinder said. "and maybe you should keep an optic on him just in case you're right and he's not trustworthy."

"Where did you recruit him from?"

"He's just a civilian. I caught him and his friends doing some shoplifting once, and it was pretty impressive, so I asked them to contact me if they needed jobs. I know he's got talent, but I don't know much else about him. If you really don't want him on your team, I can transfer him. I'm sure someone else will be willing to take him, considering his skills."

Midnight frowned, as if considering. "All right," she said. "If he succeeds this off-cycle, I'll keep him."

Branchbinder nodded. Good call.

Midnight retreated after that.

It would be good to have another pair of optics on that mechling. He was definitely not loyal to Quantum yet. He was probably only still here because he knew enough to be scared of running.

Hopefully, the trial would settle things. Almost every mech passed it under enough pressure and Jazz didn't seem to have any trouble crossing that kind of line. It wouldn't help with the loyalty issues, but it _would_ give him more incentive to stick around. After that, there was really nowhere else to go.

* * *

Jazz had time to catch a little recharge before he was supposed to meet Talon but he couldn't power down. He was kept up by thoughts about finding a traitor in time—the deadline was coming up and he had nothing yet to show for it—and worries about this thing Midnight and Talon wanted him to do. They'd been pretty cryptic about it, and that bothered him. But whatever it was, he'd do it—or at the very least fake his way through it.

He worked on finding a traitor for a while, but with no luck. Jazz remembered back in secondary school when he'd been looking for proof Soundwave could read minds. He hadn't gone about that very well, and he was pretty sure that if he'd really wanted to, he could have found something. He didn't really _want_ to find a traitor either, but a lot more depended on it. Branchbinder's wrath was a lot scarier than Verdict's.

Then he checked his chronometer and realized he was late. He let Branchbinder know where he was going and left headquarters.

Though he had to admit it was nice to be out in the city, getting some good fast driving in, he was sort of nervous. He told himself he shouldn't be because Talon had told him not to worry.

He reached the coordinates he'd been given. Talon was leaning against the wall, looking bored.

"Hey," he said. "Decided to show up. I was starting to worry."

"Yeah, sorry," Jazz said, but didn't feel like offering any more of an explanation.

"I don't care. It just means we've got to be quick before we meet up with everyone else."

"Everyone else?"

"Yeah, by the end of the off-cycle, you're going to be in Alpha team. There's not a whole lot of us, and we like to be there to welcome the fresh energon in, you know? Come on." He started walking down the alley.

Jazz followed for a while, then stopped. "Hey, Talon?"

"Yeah?" Talon turned around.

"What exactly are we gonna be doing? I'm supposed ta prove myself right? What do I have ta do?"

"You nervous?"

"Frag, yeah," Jazz said.

"It's not that hard."

"Then why don't ya tell me what it is?"

"I'll tell you," Talon said. "Just not yet. Come on, Jazz, you worry too much. You're not going to fail."

Jazz sighed and followed Talon. "I'm not worried about that so much as I'm worried about how secretive ya're being."

"If you don't like secrets, you joined the wrong gang, mech," Talon said. "Come on."

They took a set of stairs down to a lower level of the city, and then Talon led the way into a derelict building. He powered up a holo-screen that lit up the entire wall with a map of the city.

"Oh," Talon said. "Question. You got any enemies?"

"Uh…"

"I mean from before. You're fresh out of secondary, right? You have an arch-nemesis in school? Anyone who was a glitch to you?"

"Nah, not really," Jazz said. "I mean, I had sort of a rival club thing going on at a school I went to in Kalis, but…"

"Nah, never mind," Talon said. "I just thought I'd ask. Ok, here's a map of the sector. Shutter your optics and point somewhere."

Jazz hesitated. "This feels kinda juvenile."

"It's a sacred rite. Shutter your optics and point."

Jazz sighed and did as directed, touching the wall just above helm level.

"Nice," Talon said and Jazz looked at where he'd pointed. It was a residential area.

"I know where that is," Talon said. "Do you?"

"I don't think I've been there, but I could probably find it, yeah. So are we going there?"

"Yep."

If Jazz asked what they were going to do there, he probably wouldn't get an answer. So he just followed. They transformed and Talon led them through the city toward the place Jazz had pointed at. He tried to vent deeply and banish his worry. But he had a bad feeling about this and his instincts were almost never wrong.

Talon skidded to a halt just outside the neighborhood they were aiming for, and transformed. Jazz followed his lead, shifting back to root mode. He was about to ask what they were doing here when Talon commed him. He answered.

" _Ok, mech,"_ Talon said. _"From now on let's talk like this, ok?"_

" _You got it,"_ Jazz said over the internal comm. _"So what next?"_

" _Well, there's a hideout nearby where everyone else is gonna be. They might be there already. The first part of this is a skill thing. You've got to find someone and bring them to the hideout. We can do that however you like. Some mecha talk them into it, others just knock 'em out and drag 'em. Both of those are kind of difficult, depending."_

" _Just some random civilian?"_

" _Yeah,"_ Talon said. _"We used ta have a rival gang we'd go kidnap mecha from, and that was more excting, but they're gone now, so…"_

Jazz didn't want to ask the next question.

" _Look, Jazz, everymech does this. Even if you weren't Alpha team, even if you weren't in Midnight's team at all. It's a rite of passage yes, but it's also because we don't want you to freeze up in a situation or fail to follow through while you're on an actual mission."_

" _I am_ not— _"_ Jazz said.

" _Hey, it's now or never. You can do it."_

" _What happens to the random civilian?"_

" _Mecha offline all the time. It's a lot easier if you don't think about it too hard. Besides…"_

Jazz jumped as Talon put a hand on his shoulder, gripping almost hard enough to dent.

"… _if you fail, you're dead. Quantum has no place for mecha who can't kill."_

Pit. Maybe this orn would have been a good time to run… of course, they were probably prepared for that now. He glanced at Talon and then looked away again.

" _And if you're thinking of trying to run for it, don't, mech. You won't get that far. You might be able to beat me in a fight, but I'm betting Midnight could take you. She's not far away, and she's pretty slagging fast."_

" _I just don't know if I can…"_

" _Well, of course you don't,"_ Talon said. " _But I promise you it's easier than you think. And I'll help you out. Look, mech, I like you. And you're_ worth _something. It'd be a shame to lose you so early on."_

He didn't really care, did he? None of them would care if Jazz wasn't so 'valuable.' He could try to run but this was a really bad time for that. He still hadn't even figured out where they'd planted a tracker on him.

" _So, where would you go to find someone?"_

" _Where's the hideout we've gotta head for?"_

Talon sent him coordinates, and he checked a few maps on the public databases.

" _Well,"_ Jazz mused, _"If we knock someone out, we'd want a way ta get them to the hideout. Neither of us has an alt mode big enough ta put another mech in."_

" _I can comm. a friend,"_ Talon said. _"Octane's alt mode is big enough."_

" _Ok,"_ Jazz said. _"But I don't have any stun weapons or anything…"_

" _No problem."_ Talon unsubspaced a gun and handed it covertly to Jazz, who took it and spent an astrosecond looking at it before subspacing it, glancing around. It was late enough in the off-cycle that no one else was on the street. _"Just make sure to set it to stun. It'll knock 'em out for about five breems, which should be about long enough. So, how would you find someone?"_

Jazz couldn't do this. He'd have better opportunities to leave later, but he wasn't about to kidnap some random mech so they could kill him. He still didn't like to think about when Midnight had killed the guards who'd caught Stonethrow. He could never do that. Steal, yes. Steal, lie, break into places. He was a bully and a thief, but he wasn't a killer.

If he refused, though—if he tried to run—they might kill him. Maybe if he was more prepared he could get away, but as it was, he didn't have a chance. They had a tracker on him, and he couldn't fight Midnight or Branchbinder.

" _Hey, you listening to me?"_

" _I'm thinking,"_ Jazz said. They walked around another corner. He had to play along while he figured out a way to avoid this. _"Ya'd want ta find someone alone, somewhere no one else would see. Somewhere down on a lower level, or close to a ramp that would take us down there."_

" _Good thinking. How about that mech."_ He tipped his helm forward and Jazz looked up ahead. A mech was walking the other direction, looking somewhat distracted.

" _I don't know…"_ Jazz said, feeling sick. More time—he needed more time.

" _He's by himself. Mech, and there's no one else around. It's a good opportunity."_

" _Ok,"_ Jazz said. _"Let's watch where he goes."_

" _Got it. I'll follow your lead."_

Jazz led the way down the street and around the corner, then stopped and leaned back out again to look at the mech. He'd turned and walked up to one of the residential buildings—the third in a long row of identical houses. He went up to the door and hit the entry request. It might have just been Jazz's imagination, but he thought he heard the distant chime.

Jazz watched, not daring to vent, hoping the door would open and the mech would go in. But the astroseconds dragged on and the door stayed closed. The mech just kept standing there. He seemed to try the entry request again, and then he took something out of subspace and set it down on the doorstep.

Jazz looked up and down the road, but there was no one else here. The mech was still all the way across the road from them, but he'd started walking back the way he'd come, in their direction.

" _Gotta cross the street. Come on. Walk casually and don't look at him,"_ Talon said, then led the way across the street. Jazz followed, only glancing once at the mech they were after. There was a low wall at the corner, that they could crouch behind.

" _So, what's the plan?"_ Talon asked.

" _Um… We could ambush him when he gets to the corner. Can you get your transport friend here that fast?"_

" _Close to,"_ Talon said.

" _Maybe we should wait until we have a better opportunity then."_

" _Nope,"_ Talon said. _"You're just trying to put it off. Come on, you can do this. Just stun him."_

They made it across the street and Jazz walked out of sight of the mech coming their way, before crouching and creeping back over to the corner. They'd be exposed. Mecha could see them. But most of the windows were either dark or closed, and Jazz didn't feel like they were being watched.

" _Mech, I can't do this."_

" _It's easier than you think. We're close enough that if you don't freak out, you don't need to have great aim. Try to hit him in the helm, though."_

Jazz vented in quietly, shuttering his optics.

" _If you miss, drive like pit. He screams and the game's up, got it?"_

" _Ok."_ Jazz would just have to make sure that happened.

He got out the gun Talon had given him and made sure it was on stun, then waited, still and silent. It took seemingly forever for the mech to walk into view. Jazz hoped for a few astroseconds that he'd turned another way or gone back. But then the mech came into his line of sight. Jazz raised the gun in one shaky hand, but didn't fire.

The mech almost walked past, but then he stopped and turned to look at them, expression changing from disappointment to surprise and fear in a couple of instants. Jazz willed him to cry out, to run.

But he didn't, he just stared. And then something flashed and flew over Jazz's shoulder from behind to hit the mech in the helm.

He collapsed and hit the ground with a clatter. Silence fell again. Jazz glanced back at Talon, who moved up closer, sticking his own gun back in subspace.

" _Sorry, you were taking too long,"_ He said. _"Next time don't think about it, just shoot. Here, you drag him over to the shadows of this wall. I'm a tiny bit curious about what he left on that doorstep."_

Jazz nodded as Talon walked past him, and then dragged the unconscious mech to lie in the corner where the wall met the ground. The temptation to run increased. But he didn't just want to leave this mech here, and they were tracking him somehow. Until he found the tracker, there was no way he could disappear.

He should have expected something like this, when he'd joined Quantum. He had done this to himself and he was just going to have to put up with it until he could find a way out.

But while Talon wasn't looking, at least he might get a head start…

Talon came back around the corner and sat down next to him. _"Pickup's coming in half a breem. Just have to hope nomech walks by here in that time."_

Jazz nodded, cursing himself for his indecision. He could have run. Maybe they'd have tracked him down, but…

" _You ok?"_

" _Fine… what was that he left on the doorstep?"_

" _Ah, nothing significant. Energon treats and a note."_ He pulled the box out of subspace. _"You want one?"_

Jazz looked away.

" _You sure? Come on, mech, don't be so nervous."_ He could hear the amusement in Talon's voice, and it didn't help him feel better about this situation. Talon pulled out a pair of stasis cuffs and put them on the unconscious mech. _"These'll stop him from comming anyone when he wakes up,"_ he said by way of explanation.

A big vehicle drove up. "Hey, you mechs need a ride?" he said, opening his door.

"Thanks, mech," Talon stood. "Jazz, help me get this in there."

Jazz helped Talon lift the limp frame into the other mech.

"We'll drive," Talon said.

"Ok." The mech's doors closed and he drove away. Jazz and Talon transformed and followed.

Why was he doing this? Why was he just going along with it? If he kept following these mecha, he'd eventually get to a point at which he couldn't back out.

They went down to a lower level, and to an empty warehouse. Midnight and her Alpha team were all there. She frowned at Jazz, crossing her arms. Octane drove into the middle of the room and transformed, dumping his cargo onto the floor. Everyone else cheered. Jazz transformed and stood, meeting Midnight's gaze.

Silence and stillness fell.

"Come here," Midnight said.

Jazz approached her, stepping around the unconscious mech on the floor.

"He did great," Talon said. "I mean, he froze up and I had to knock this mech out for him, but…"

Midnight nodded, then put a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Look, mechling, I'm going to tell you straight up that I don't trust you."

Jazz met her gaze, glad for the visor that hid his optics.

"But no one in this organization is perfect. And if you're willing to work and fight and die alongside us, then you'll have a place here. You'll be one of us. It's an honor to join this section of my team. I hope you appreciate that."

He was supposed to thank her, wasn't he? He was supposed to be grateful for this opportunity to join her elite club. "I… thanks, I guess. I just…"

"What?" she snapped.

"Don't really know if I wanna pay the entrance fee."

The other members of Alpha team thought that was pretty funny. He glanced at Talon, who was grinning, and Murk, who nodded in his direction.

"Look, you mecha are my friends," Jazz said. "But…"

"I'll stop you right there," Midnight said. "We don't have all off-cycle." She walked past Jazz, close enough that he felt the wind of her passing, and nudged the mech he'd brought with her pede. "Not a particularly impressive catch," she said as he stirred. "Come on, wake up." She kicked him and Jazz winced as the mech gasped and scrambled to a sitting position.

He stared around the room, looking shocked "What… what's happening?" he said, trying to get up. "Who are you? What do you want? I swear I don't know…"

"Shut up," Midnight said, and the mech shut his lip plates, still staring around the room, looking horrified.

"Jazz, you're just out of secondary," Midnight said. "But that's no excuse. In fact, it's a good time to let go of your past and start something new. The rules here are different from the ones in the world you came from. Out there they've got all those superficial barriers to protect the weak. But that's not the way Quantum works. Quantum protects the strong. The more we're each willing to do for the team, the stronger we'll be collectively."

Jazz pretended to look at her.

"Please," the mech said. "Don't hurt me. Please, I haven't done anything."

"Stop playing by those rules, and join us in our world," Midnight said calmly. "Kill him."

"What!" the mech said. "Primus… please, I'll do anything. Don't kill me, please!" He finally struggled to his pedes despite the stasis cuffs on his hands and backed away from Jazz, but the others closed in, making a circle around them.

"If you can't do it, then you're not one of us," Midnight said. "Mercy is a sign of weakness, and like I just explained, we don't believe in protecting the weak. If you can't do it, we'll kill _both_ of you."

"Primus no…" the mech sobbed, trembling. Jazz didn't want to look at him.

He looked around the circle instead, hoping to see a way out. He was trapped. He could try to fight his way out, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't succeed, not with Midnight there. They would kill him. This was the point at which he couldn't turn back.

A sort of tense silence filled the atmosphere.

"I can't do it," he said.

"Some new recruits get cold pedes," Midnight said. "But most of them just need a little help."

"Come on," Swallow said. " _I_ did it, you can do it, mechling."

"Do it!" Talon said.

"Kill him!"

Jazz met Midnight's gaze. She nodded slightly.

The mecha around the circle closed in on them. Mecha grabbed at Jazz, pushing him toward the mech he'd helped capture. Someone shoved a long, wicked-looking knife into his hand. Several mecha grabbed the sobbing civilian and forced him to the ground. They shouted at Jazz gleefully to get it over with, pushing him, dragging him.

Despite the noise, and the mecha shoving him, Jazz's helm was suddenly clear. There was no way out. If he couldn't do this, then he'd end up dead himself, and this mech would die too. They probably wouldn't kill him quickly either.

He looked down at the knife in his hand. He could try to fight his way out of the circle again, but that probably wouldn't work. It was too late for that.

The others backed off a little as Jazz stepped forward on his own. The mech looked up as Jazz approached. He screamed and struggled, but couldn't pull free.

"Let him up for an astrosecond," Jazz said.

They hesitated, but he looked at Midnight and she nodded.

They let the panicked mech go, and he struggled to get to his pedes as the others backed up to make a ring again.

Jazz didn't let him get all the way up before tripping him and pinning him to the ground, facedown. His audience cheered.

"No," the mech sobbed. "Please, _please_ don't kill me. _Primus please…"_ He struggled again, but Jazz held him down, glad he couldn't see the civilian's optics. Alpha team shouted out encouragement. Again, he hesitated, but he told himself very firmly that he was out of options. This mech didn't understand—nothing Jazz did could save him. He took a deep, shaky vent and raised the knife.


	9. Pretending

"Go get some recharge. You know we've got a mission next orn, right?"

"It's all right," Jazz said. He couldn't recharge. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to recharge again.

"I'm not your femme creator," Talon said. "I'm just saying…"

"I'm fine."

"Ok," Talon got up and walked away. "I'll see you next orn."

Jazz watched him go. It was the middle of the off-cycle now, but he didn't want to be in his room alone.

He looked down at the table. Something about it didn't seem real, like this place was somehow not truly part of his life, like he was just acting. Those hands resting on the flat surface in front of him weren't really his hands. Despite being almost too loud for conversation, the music seemed distant and muffled.

Jazz shuttered his optics.

" _Don't," the mech sobbed. "Please don't kill me, please don't…"_

He took a deep vent. He needed to find someone else to talk to. Or more high grade. That might help.

 _Jazz was being dragged away in a crowd of happy, excited mecha, all clamoring to congratulate him and welcome him to the team. He gave in to the celebrating, and let himself be herded out of the building._

He got to his pedes and stumbled over to the bar. Spotlight wasn't here at the moment, but the mech who was running the place shook his helm.

"I don't think so. You've had plenty. Get out, I won't have you recharging on my floor."

"But…"

"Nope. I said _out,_ or do I need to have someone get rid of you?"

Jazz stared at him, hurt and not exactly sure what to do. His vision fuzzed for a moment.

" _Please…"_

He pushed away from the bar and headed for the door instead. Maybe he ought to be alone. He didn't deserve to talk to anyone anyway. He made it out, but he was shaking. He felt like someone inside him, some small part of him, was screaming.

 _The mech screamed. One long, desperate wail…_

No. Jazz leaned against the wall. Where was he going? Was he going to his room? He couldn't stop here, out in the hall.

He made it around the corner, but then sank to the ground, trembling. He felt like he was going to empty his tanks.

 _Don't," the mech sobbed. "Please don't kill me, please don't…"_

" _I'm sorry." Jazz brought the knife down._

 _The mech screamed…_

 _And went limp._

 _Jazz yanked the knife back out and spark energy flowed out of the wound. The Alpha team cheered again and the circle closed, and suddenly, Jazz was being dragged away in a crowd of happy, excited mecha. He dropped the energon-stained blade and gave in to the celebrating, feeling a sickening sense of euphoria._

 _It didn't last long enough. By the time they'd all driven back to headquarters, he felt like the world was ending. He felt cold._

 _It was over._

 _No turning back._

Jazz wrapped his arms around his knees. Even sitting down he felt dizzy. High grade made you forget things sometimes. He'd had enough that maybe next orn, all the details would be gone. He didn't want the details. He didn't want to keep hearing that mech scream, over and over in his helm.

His hands still smelled like internally processed energon, or maybe that was his imagination. He hadn't gotten much on him. He shuddered, curling up more tightly and wished he was anyone or anywhere else.

" _Don't… Please don't kill me, please don't…"_

A sob escaped him. He didn't even care. He didn't care about that mech, didn't care about being on Alpha team, didn't care about Quantum. He didn't care about living or dying, or anyone, he just didn't want to be here, right now. He felt like he was caving in on himself. He shuttered his optics again and put his helm down on his knees, giving in.

It was over. No turning back.

* * *

Something hit him and he was suddenly online as he flew a pace or two and hit the ground in a tumble.

"Hey!" A deep-voiced mech thundered toward him, and Jazz got to his pedes and scrambled away. "This hallway isn't for napping in! Get the frag out!"

Jazz backed away another step, but the mech didn't seem interested in attacking him. Jazz recognized him after a moment as one of Hegemony's bodyguards.

A group of them walked past, including Hegemony himself and few of the high-ranking members of Quantum. Jazz caught the mech who was third in command watching him with what looked shockingly like pity on his faceplate. Jazz let out a quiet vent once they were past. His spark was still pulsing erratically.

Primus, what was he doing in this hallway?

He…

He remembered.

He put a hand to his faceplate, and found that his visor was in the way.

He had officially joined Midnight's Alpha team last off-cycle.

He had killed someone.

Had he really…?

He walked numbly down the hall, shaking his helm, trying to piece together what had happened the off-cycle before. His internal clock had reset again, so he needed to check the public network to find out what time it was.

Midnight's team had a mission in a few joors. And he'd missed a comm. from Branchbinder.

His processor started to hurt as he entered his room. He sat down at his desk and put his helm in his hands. He needed more recharge. He had only been out for four joors, and he hadn't gotten enough the off-cycle before either.

Why was he thinking about this? Why did he care about how much recharge he'd gotten?

He had _killed_ someone.

His desk was reflective enough that he could sort of see himself in it. He retracted his visor so he could meet his own optics. They glowed up at him, blurry.

It hadn't even been that difficult.

Part of him wanted to lock the door and stay in here all orn and recharge and hide from everything. Another, larger part wanted to go and hang out in the lounge and find mecha to talk to. That was an even better way to hide.

But the longer he put off talking to Branchbinder, the worse it would be. So he commed the other mech. He had to wait several breems for an answer.

" _What do you want?"_

"Ya commed me," Jazz said.

" _Yes. And you didn't respond."_

"I was recharging."

" _Yeah, I figured. Late off-cycle?"_

"Yeah," Jazz said. "An' I'm sorry I missed your comm. What do ya need?"

" _I need to train you later this orn. Also, you have two orns left to find a traitor. Just a friendly reminder."_

"Ok," Jazz looked up at the ceiling. "Oh… I got a mission with Midnight and her crew later this orn, so depending on when ya want ta train…"

He heard Branchbinder sigh. "Next orn, then. Five joors."

Jazz didn't respond.

Branchbinder cut the comm. and Jazz pushed away from the desk and got to his pedes. He needed to move, he needed to _do_ something.

He needed to find a traitor. He only had a few orns left and he hadn't made much headway. He'd found a couple of leads in the accounting files, but he'd gotten bored of all the dead ends and had given up.

But he couldn't work on it right now. He left the room and headed to the lounge, to find mecha to talk to. On his way, he had a thought. That mech, Hegemony's third in command, had looked at him in a funny sort of way. It had been sad, sympathetic. Midnight had said in Quantum, you didn't protect the weak. You didn't feel sorry for them.

That mech could be a traitor.

Jazz would have to look into it. He could try to talk to the mech as well. It wasn't much of a lead, but it was something. He got to the lounge and sat in a dark corner, pulling his datapad out of subspace. He needed to find more information on that mech, but he wasn't even sure what his designation was. It wasn't like they had some sort of database with a list of everyone's designations and titles—or if they did, Jazz hadn't found it.

Well, actually…

He got up and wandered over to where Spotlight was having an animated conversation with a couple of other femmes.

"Hey!" she said when she saw him. "I hear you got put in Midnight's Alpha Team."

"Whaaat?" One of the other femmes said, staring at him. "Didn't you just barely join _Quantum_?"

"Yeah," Jazz shrugged.

"It's crazy." Spotlight said. "I mean, no one gets into her Alpha Team that fast… or that young. You doing ok?"

He frowned. She looked sympathetic too. Pit, what was he doing? That mech had shown a tiny bit of empathy, and now Jazz was trying to find evidence that he was a traitor.

"Jazz?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I just had a question for ya."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Hegemony's second and third in command… what are their designations?"

Spotlight smiled, tilting her helm to the side. "Oh, that's easy," she said. "That's Feedback and Lithium. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," Jazz said. "I just realized I didn't know their designations. Thanks."

"No problem," Spotlight said, and Jazz walked away. He could tell they were talking about him, even though they waited until he was far enough away he couldn't hear them very well.

He did a little more research on the mech, but his spark wasn't really in it anymore, so he went back to trying to hunt someone down using Quantum's financial records.

* * *

It was the first time Jazz had been on a mission in the on-cycle. He joined the others in a crowded intersection. It was just a few members of Alpha Team. Midnight, Friction, and a mech Jazz didn't know very well whose designation was Arson.

Those three designations went together pretty well, he thought.

It was interesting to walk with them through the city. They were all covering their Quantum brands, but they didn't need those to own the street. Mecha just instinctively got out of their way. It was a certain sort of walk, a certain sort of look.

Jazz was the shortest in the group, and definitely the least intimidating. Midnight was the scariest. She was large for a femme, and moved with a sort of dangerous grace. And when she looked at you, you could somehow see in her optics just how easy it would be for her to kill you—if she cared enough to do so.

Of course, no one could see Jazz's optics. He was starting to like it that way.

Every once in a while, as they went, something would remind him again of the off-cycle before. But he pushed those thoughts away. He needed to get through the next few orns. Yes, that had been terrible, but if he wanted to avoid getting killed himself, he needed to find a traitor and figure out where they'd put a tracker on him.

He realized at a certain point that they were heading toward the part of the sector that he knew. As they got closer to his school, he started worrying that this somehow had something to do with him, but they didn't get that far.

Midnight stopped at a corner Jazz knew well—when they'd all walked home from school, this was the point at which the twins and Stonethrow went one way, while Jazz went the other.

"Ok," Midnight said. "We're going to a power plant. I've got lists of things to do. Mostly, we'll be rigging the place. They're due for an industrial accident or two."

"How come?" Friction said. "That's Council-run, right? Did they miss a payment or something?"

Midnight shrugged. "This time I don't know. But keep quiet. Avoid guards and technicians, and if someone gets seen, we need to get out. We're supposed to leave something, though, so they know we were there."

"I can find a wall to paint a logo on or something," Arson said.

Midnight nodded. "Do that last." She turned. "Jazz."

"Yeah?"

"You're learning quickly, but you're still too noisy. I want you to stay in the less populated parts of the building."

Jazz nodded.

"And we can't use comms because there's a block in there, and we won't be able to take it down without alerting someone, so everyone just know to get out if you hear the alarms going off. Let's go."

Jazz wondered briefly why he was coming along if they were worried about him ruining the mission, but once they got into the building and he got his list of jobs, he understood. The only other person on Alpha team who was small enough to get into some of the spaces he had to crawl in was Swallow, and she didn't like that sort of thing.

He had to admit sneaking around a power plant sabotaging machinery was a lot of fun. It was like a video game, but a thousand times more exciting because there were real consequences if you got caught.

It went smoothly, and they met up and started heading back just as the sun was setting. Jazz realized as they walked away that when this power plant blew, it would cause power-outages across this part of the sector. His school might be affected. His school, Vibes' apartment, the twins' house, the factory that Stonethrow's creators worked at…

He ought to check on Vibes. He definitely couldn't talk to her, but he could find out how she was doing somehow.

He had killed someone.

"Hey, mechling."

Jazz looked up.

"Good job in there," Friction said.

"Thanks."

The mech nodded, and they kept walking.

He needed to stop thinking about it. He didn't even feel that different. Life went on, no matter what you did or didn't do.

Jazz found himself up late yet again, despite knowing he had a meeting with Branchbinder at five joors. He was pretty sure he'd found a traitor. He had to get a little more evidence, though.

He'd wasted some time trying to find Vibes. She had moved, apparently. He'd panicked a little when he realized she wasn't living at her apartment anymore. He'd been terrified that Branchbinder or someone else associated with Quantum might have made her disappear. But after some frantic searching on the public networks and hacking into various databases, he'd discovered that she was fine. She'd just packed up and moved again. It was pretty smart of her, actually. It would keep her safe if Jazz got into any more trouble.

He checked his chronometer again, and got up from his table, subspacing his datapad. He really needed to get some recharge.

He bid farewell to a few mecha as he went past, and then headed to his room. Once he was there, he lay on his berth and got the datapad out again. He amused himself by scrolling through the camera feeds for a few breems. He was keeping an optic on a few different mecha. It was nice to know where Branchbinder spent most of his time, so Jazz could avoid him like cosmic rust. It was also nice to know where mecha in Midnight's Alpha team were, because sometimes Jazz had questions for them.

Blackingle, Stonethrow, and the twins didn't live on base, but Jazz always watched for them as well. He didn't see any of them very often, even Stonethrow, and he missed them.

He stopped at one camera. There was Hegemony's third in command—Spotlight had said his designation was Lithium. He was standing by himself in a little hallway by one of the secret exits to headquarters. Jazz watched him for a few breems, but he was just standing there.

That could be suspicious.

He put his datapad away and slipped out of his room.

He knew where the cameras were, but he didn't think he could sneak past them, so he didn't try. He walked through the base all the time, so most likely no one would care.

It was a temptation anyway to try and move without being seen. That was probably a good thing, that he was already picking up those habits.

He stopped just around the corner, and listened, but he couldn't hear anything, even the mech's engine. So he checked around the corner to find that Lithium was gone. Maybe he'd gone out the passageway. Jazz crept back around the corner and sat down to wait, listening for the door to open again. He didn't dare go outside. Branchbinder was training him in a few joors, and it would be ten times worse if Jazz had broken a rule.

He shuttered his optics, just for a moment, listening…

* * *

"This is the second time this orn I've seen you recharging in a hallway."

Jazz started online and looked up at the mech standing over him. "Pit…"

Lithium shook his helm and backed away. "I wouldn't advise making a habit of it. One of these orns you'll wake up with your subspace empty and your integrated weapons missing."

Jazz got to his pedes, feeling embarrassed. He hadn't been _that_ tired had he? He checked his chronometer and realized that he'd only been recharging for half a joor.

Lithium was still staring at him expectantly.

"Um…" Jazz said.

"Here," Lithium pulled Jazz's datapad out of his own subspace and held it out.

"Oh, thanks," Jazz reached out to take it, but Lithium grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, expression darkening.

"I've heard about you. Branchbinder's protégé. I don't know if running into you again is a coincidence or not, but either way I should warn you."

Jazz whispered, "yeah?"

"Keep your olfactory sensor where it belongs."

He definitely didn't seem sympathetic at the moment. Jazz studied the older mech from behind his visor.

"Did Branch ask you to follow me? Tell him to come talk to me in person if he's got a problem."

Jazz decided to try something. He started recording the conversation and then shied away and pitched his voice a little higher, trying to sound scared. "I don't… he didn't…"

Sure enough, Lithium's expression softened a little, and he let go of Jazz's arm and gave him back the datapad with a sigh. "Whether or not he sent you, my advice still applies. Don't go poking around where you haven't been invited. And if you test your boundaries, Branchbinder will tighten the leash, little turbo-pup. So I'd be careful about that too."

He turned and started walking away.

"Hey, wait…" Jazz said

Lithium stopped. "What?" He sounded annoyed again.

"I didn't want ta be here," Jazz said. It wasn't a very difficult act. The words were true. "I was never a good mechling, but I didn't want ta have ta… hurt anyone. And all of this… Branchbinder…"

Lithium sighed and turned around. "Seems like there ought to be a way out, doesn't there?"

"Yeah," Jazz said, letting a little hope creep into his voice.

"Well, there isn't one," Lithium said quietly. "I'm sorry, mechling. Your best bet is to keep your helm down and do what you're told. Understand?"

Jazz nodded and let him leave this time.

Then he subspaced his datapad and walked back to his room. That had gone exactly like he would have expected it to if Lithium was discontent. The mech had practically implied that he didn't want to be part of Quantum.

But Jazz didn't need to use that information against Lithium. There was something there, for certain, and Jazz would keep poking around until he'd found it. He didn't have to say anything to Branchbinder about it though. He might even try to make friends with Lithium. It would be good to have allies in high places, especially if he ever wanted to get out of this place.

He could think about it later. Right now, he needed to get some recharge.

* * *

Toward the end of the on-cycle, two orns later, he made his way to Branchbinder's office.

"So," Branchbinder said when he came in. "Time's up. What have you got for me?"

Jazz turned his datapad on and set it down on the assassin's desk. "One traitor," he said. "Designation: Riot. Offense: stealing from Quantum and sellin' stuff for his own enrichment. I've traced some of his deals, he ain't just made pocket change, he's been embezzling big credit."

Branchbinder raised an optic ridge and scrolled through some of Jazz's report. "This is… how did you figure this out?"

"Well," Jazz said. "I mighta gotten inta the financial records. Ya know, ya should keep better accounts."

Branchbinder frowned at him.

"I know ya didn't give me permission."

"I did not."

"I was hopin' that ya wouldn't be too mad, cuz at least I found ya a traitor within the time limit."

Branchbinder actually _didn't_ seem angry, which would have been a nice surprise except that there was something very unsettling about the way he was reading the report.

Jazz waited, not wanting to risk annoying him by talking again.

The last few orns had been interesting. The initial shock of having killed that mech was wearing off, and things were different. Somehow, actually, it had made him less afraid. Less afraid of Branchbinder, less afraid of Midnight, less afraid of the situation in general.

He still heard echoes sometimes, when he was alone. That mech's voice haunted him, begging Jazz to spare him. And that, _that_ was almost worse than anything Midnight or Branchbinder could do to him. But he hoped that would fade too, with time.

"You put me in an interesting position. For this—I _should_ kill you for this. You know more than you're allowed to know, considering how much we trust you. You could do us a lot of damage."

"How?" Jazz asked. "Who would I tell and what'd I get out of it? I could make the Council mad at ya, let enforcement know enough ta stop ya, tell the public about ya and turn _them_ on the Council. But then what? That'd be a big mess, mech, and besides, ya'd probably hunt me down and offline me if I did anything like that. I'm just trying ta look out for my own interests, like any of the rest of us. It wouldn't help me at all ta tell anyone what I know, and so I won't."

He hoped Branchbinder believed him.

The depressing thing was that it was essentially the truth.

He really was just trying to keep himself alive.

He was a coward.

Branchbinder was watching him, studying him. Jazz looked down. If this mech decided he was lying, Jazz could end up dead anyway. He could run, but he probably wouldn't even make it out of Headquarters.

"Lucky for you, you're useful," Branchbinder said. "So here's how this is going to go." He picked up Jazz's datapad. "If you want to use this, you have to ask me for it and you have to stay in my sight when you have it."

Jazz nodded.

"And lucky for me, I've got some spare time right now, and I'm feeling the need to spar. Shall we?"

Jazz looked down. "Yes, sir, looking forward to it."


	10. Disgrace

Life didn't get better and Jazz's situation didn't change, but he did. He went on more missions with Midnight's team. He found more traitors for Branchbinder. He killed a few more times—mostly guards on missions, and once when Branchbinder had sent him to bring in a mech who'd tried to leave. He'd caught up to the deserter, but the mech hadn't cooperated.

Jazz felt less awful about that one. If he'd brought the mech in alive, they'd have tortured him.

He practiced moving silently until he could sneak up on Midnight. He trained with Branchbinder until he could hold his own, and his superior couldn't hurt him anymore unless Jazz let him. Swallow tried to teach him to hack, but he was already better than her so that didn't last long. He built up different personas for different situations. In the lounge he was everyone's friend—talkative, a little gossipy, clever, well-liked... On missions, he was focused and determined and obedient. For Branchbinder, he went through different stages. Once the other mech could no longer easily overpower him in a fight, Jazz started talking back to him a little more. It was a dangerous game—provoking Branchbinder—but danger kept life from getting too dull and repetitive.

He got used to it.—used to being here, to pretending for some that he was happy and for others that he cared about his job.

And he avoided being alone, because when there was no one to pretend for he wasn't sure who he was. He wasn't sure he wanted to _know_ who he was. .

He also avoided the twins, because they reminded him of who he had been before all of this. He did keep an optic on them, though. They got into trouble fairly often, but they seemed to at least be trying to keep their helms down. They were a little more open about being unhappy here, which worried Jazz. He didn't want them to do anything really rebellious, because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to turn them in.

Blackangle was another story. This was his _element._ Jazz was worried about him too, but for different reasons. He had already made it to team leader status, but his hunger for power was strong enough that it would either see him in charge of Quantum or dead. Most likely dead.

And Stonethrow was Stonethrow—as crazy as he'd ever been. He'd made friends, though, and seemed to be doing all right.

Jazz tried to find ways to talk to Lithium as well, but the mech was avoiding him. Eventually, Jazz gave up. He'd never be able to turn him in as a traitor anyway, not without some very solid evidence. He was too powerful, and too close to Hegemony.

Time went on. Quartexes passed. Jazz got used to everything. It was challenging enough that he didn't get bored. It might have gone on like that for vorns—after a while, even being alone stopped bothering him so much as he got used to the mech he was becoming. That mech he'd been before faded to nothing. He was Quantum, part of this great machine that preyed on the weak and protected the strong. He was strong.

* * *

"Ok," Midnight said, "This one's going to be tricky."

The gloom of the off-cycle was an old friend now.

"The doors to this place are heavily guarded and fortified, and there are cameras all over. So Beta team will stay back until Alpha team's all the way in. Also, we're going to need to keep radio silence. I think they have a comm. block anyway. Jazz, and Talon are going to sneak into a nearby building that runs on the same power grid. They'll shut the power down, and then the back-up power in the building will come on. Swallow and Murk will use the split astrosecond when the power's off to get a pede in the door of their central computer. Jazz, I want you to come and help with that once you're done with the power. If we get control of the security system we move. If we don't, then we retreat. Got it?"

Jazz nodded.

"Ok, go."

Jazz and Talon split off and headed for the building in question. It was an empty warehouse, though lights in one window bespoke that _someone_ was using it.

Jazz found the back door unlocked and he and Talon crept in. It was dark, and the room was a lot fuller than Jazz had expected, strewn with boxes and large, oddly-shaped objects. Talon tripped over something that jangled loudly, and cursed.

Jazz wanted to pull out a light so he could see what all of this stuff was. Some of the things were taller than him, and covered by tarps. This didn't seem like what you'd normally find in a warehouse.

He picked his way silently through the boxes and racks and wheeled shelves with Talon following.

"What the pit is this slag?" Talon wondered.

Jazz didn't answer. They were already making too much noise.

He heard a gasp and froze, then slowly looked in the direction of the sound. Two figures stood in the dim room, optics glowing brightly.

"Aw, pit," Talon said.

"Who are you?" the larger figure demanded. A femme, by the sound of it.

Jazz saw Talon unsubspace a knife out of the corner of his optic.

"Hang on," he said. If these two screamed and alerted anyone, they'd have to pull out. "No one move." He walked silently toward them and the little one squeaked an stepped back to hide behind the femme.

"Who are you?" she demanded again, but took a step back. She was also pretty small, probably just a two-wheeler. "Don't come any closer." She reached for something on the wall behind her.

"Don't ya open that door—we don't want ta have ta kill anyone," Jazz said.

The lights flickered on.

"Hey!" Talon growled, and took a step forward, but Jazz waved him back.

"Look, femme," he said. "Believe me when I say we _can_ kill ya, and we will if ya make a fuss. We ain't here for ya, we're just passing through. Let us go and we'll let you live."

She glared at him, but he could see the fear behind her gaze too. She was really pretty—distractingly so—and was wearing all sorts of decorative ornaments.

Talon pulled out a gun "Come here, both of you."

"If you fire that everyone will hear," the femme said.

"And ya'll be dead," Jazz added. "Everymech loses. Look, we ain't gonna hurt ya if ya don't make us. Ya can't fight us and I'm betting…" he glanced around Now that the lights were on, he could see what was in the room. "Ya're an acting troupe aren't ya? None of ya can really fight. I bet ya don't want them ta get hurt."

The femme crossed her arms.

"Come stand in the middle of the room," Jazz said. "Talon watch them, will ya?"

"Yep," he said.

Jazz hesitated. He knew Talon probably expected to kill them. They _ought_ to kill them so as to leave no witnesses who could describe them to the enforcers. But though he'd killed many times now, something stopped him. Maybe it was how scared they were and how the older femme was trying so hard to hide it. Maybe it was the youngling. Jazz really didn't think he could kill a youngling.

Jazz found where the power line was and cut through the floor to see where it reached the main supply line. He built a nasty trap for anyone who tried to mess with it and then turned it off.

The lights went out.

The youngling squeaked again and Jazz heard the older one shushing her. He turned to see Talon pull out his knife again, which he'd half-expected. He ducked in and snatched it from the other mech.

"Hey," Talon hissed.

"They scream, and the others will come," Jazz said.

"You can kill someone without them screaming."

"I know," Jazz said. "But it's too risky. As long as they stay quiet, we don't have to hurt them." He turned to face the older femme. She took an involuntary step back and he followed her until he'd backed her up against a big, covered stage prop of some kind and put the knife to her throat.

"Aria!" the youngling femme whimpered.

"Shhh," the older femme said.

"Now," Jazz leaned in close. Her optics were fascinating. "We're gonna leave now. If ya pretend like ya didn't see us, then this is over, like nothing ever happened. But if ya comm. enforcement, or anything like that, we'll hunt ya down."

She shuttered her optics.

"Got it?"

"Got it."

Jazz backed away, and the youngling ducked in and clung to the older femme's leg.

"No, we should kill them," Talon said.

"Nah, come on, we ain't got time." Jazz led the way out the door, and Talon followed reluctantly.

They crossed the street to meet up with Midnight and the others.

"We in?" Jazz asked.

"Well, I'm in the system," Swallow said. "But it might take a while to hack the security without getting noticed."

"I can try," Jazz said, and she moved over so he could use her datapad.

Branchbinder still kept the datapad he'd originally given to Jazz, but Jazz had managed to get another one. He'd waited until he knew Branchbinder was on a mission and asked someone in the lounge to borrow theirs so he could buy one for himself. He had to be very careful about using it, though, because if Branchbinder found out, he'd be in a whole lot of trouble.

It took him a solid half a joor, but he managed to get control of the security system, put the cameras on loop, and disable all the alarms on the doors and throughout the building.

"Thanks," Swallow said. "I have no idea how you did that."

"No problem," Jazz grinned. "I'll show ya sometime."

He was glad she was warming up to him a little. At the beginning, she'd been pretty unfriendly, probably because she felt threatened by having someone on the team who could do her job better than she could. But she didn't seem to mind him now, and she'd even let him give her advice a couple of times.

"Ok," Midnight said. "Here's how this is going to go. Some rich businessman has offered Quantum a lot of credit if we make trouble for his competition. So we're going to blow this nice little corporate headquarters building to pit."

"This is a business headquarters?" Murk said, crossing his arms. "What exactly is their business? What's all the security for?"

"Doesn't matter," Midnight said.

"Transportation," Swallow smiled at Murk. "Specifically groundbridge engineering and maintenance. So I'm going to stay out here and keep hacking, see if I can snag some blueprints or something. You could probably sell those."

"Huh," Murk said.

"Since we won't have comms once we're in there, Centrifuge has written detailed instructions for each of you," Midnight said. "Follow those instructions and we'll be in and out in ten breems. If you don't get to your target room in time to set your charge, then just bring it back. Better to miss a couple of explosions than to waste valuable time. They've got a couple of guards. Taking them down without alerting the main security room is priority one. Alpha team will go in and do that. Then four breems later, everyone else comes in. If something goes wrong while Beta team is still out here, Swallow will be able to let you know, and you can retreat. Otherwise, head in, do your jobs, and get the pit out of there. Ok, Centrifuge?"

Centrifuge nodded, and Jazz got his instructions through the comm. He was going to be going with Talon, as usual. He caught the other mech's optics, and both of them nodded.

"Everyone ready?" Midnight asked.

Everyone in Alpha team acknowledged their readiness and they sprinted for the front doors of the building, which Swallow opened for them.

Jazz and Talon ran silently through the halls, breaking off from the rest of the group. They had two separate guards to kill. Jazz let Talon take the lead on the first one, and then killed the second one himself.

The building was quiet and dark. No alarms, no indication that anything had gone wrong. But Jazz couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He headed back to the main hallway where they were supposed to gather when they were done with their tasks. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe running into that random femme had thrown him off.

Beta team came in and went to do their part. Jazz had a role there too—this time alone. He planted a bomb in a nearby room that looked like someone's office, and then went back out to meet up with Midnight. Half of Beta team was back, and almost all of Alpha team.

Midnight stood still as a statue, arms crossed, studying the ground.

"Hey," Jazz said quietly.

Midnight didn't react. Silence fell.

Then Jazz heard something that sounded like distant sirens.

And someone running—quietly but not quietly enough.

Midnight's helm shot up, just as Swallow came sprinting around the corner.

"What?" Midnight said as Swallow neared them. "You're supposed to…"

"The enforcers are coming," Swallow leaned against the wall, venting hard.

Mecha gasped and a quiet, anxious murmur swept the hallway.

"I don't know how they knew since I've been monitoring communications leaving the building. Someone must have seen us outside or something."

Jazz glanced at Talon, who glared back at him.

Pit.

A couple more mecha from Beta team joined them, including Stonethrow.

"All right, let's go!" Midnight said. "Everyone out!"

They ran through the building. They'd been gathering close to the front entrance, but apparently not close enough. Almost as soon as they made it to the doors, enforcers started pouring through it from the other side, filling the hallway.

Midnight and everyone else froze.

"You're under arrest," the mech at the front said. "Drop your weapons and come quietly."

"Anyone still got one of those bombs?" Midnight asked calmly.

Stonethrow rushed forward with a wild shout, carrying one of the explosive charges they'd been leaving in the rooms. Enforcers shot at him, but he dodged and threw the box at them.

Midnight pulled a little remote out of subspace and hit a button.

Sound overloaded Jazz's audios and the hallway filled with fire from both ends. She'd detonated all of them.

Something crashed into him from behind, and he realized everyone was moving. As the explosion cleared, he could see that it had given them a way through. He sprinted over the blistered, torn-up ground, and out through the gaping hole in the front of the building. There were enforcers outside too. He saw Midnight and Talon fighting a group of them nearby. Everywhere mecha were running, screaming. The Quantum mecha were trying to get away, and some of the enforcers were trying to apprehend them while others ran for the building, probably to try and help their injured friends.

Jazz made it out into the relatively quiet city and slowed to a stop. He was covered in burns all over, and a big piece of shrapnel had lodged itself in his leg. He was leaking, but he almost couldn't care. He could still feel the heat from those explosions, and see the brilliant flash of light. Mecha had just died. Quantum mecha—mecha he knew.

Had any of them even survived?

Even as he thought that, his comm. beeped. Midnight, on the group comm.

" _Everyone who made it out, meet two blocks south of headquarters. We need a helm count."_

Jazz took in a deep vent and let it out slowly, then started limping back in the direction of headquarters.

About two thirds of them made it back, but not everyone. Stonethrow wasn't there—he'd probably been too close to that explosion.

"Ok," Midnight said. "Murk's still back there trying to confirm who's offline and who's been arrested. Tell me who's missing? Centrifuge is offline, who's his second?"

A large mech stepped forward, and started listing designations.

Everyone who wasn't offline—everyone who had been captured instead—would probably end up interrogated and then executed. Or, at the very least, they'd be in jail for the rest of their lives.

Once the Beta team mech had finished listing the missing mecha, Midnight dismissed everyone to go to the medical wing. Jazz's leg hurt, but it wasn't bad enough he needed to see Lilac about it right at the moment. He hung around, hoping to find out what had happened to Stonethrow. Swallow was also missing.

Talon approached Midnight and started talking quietly with her. Jazz tried to blend into the shadows—he had a feeling he knew what they were talking about. That fragging femme.

He should have killed her. He really should have killed her.

And that thought, the conviction behind it, shocked some sense into him. He looked down at his energon-stained hands. He had killed mecha this orn. Once, not so long ago, that would have bothered him. But he'd done it without even thinking about it. There was no feeling—no remorse, no sorrow, no tank-churning horror. He was just angry, because that femme had gotten his Quantum brothers and sisters killed.

Even as he thought that, Midnight sent a comm. with the designations of those confirmed offline, and those captured.

Stonethrow was dead. Jazz felt a small twinge of sorrow, but that was it. No real grief, They'd been friends for more than a vorn, and Jazz could barely bring himself to care about the mech's death.

Frag.

He was supposed to be trying to escape. He had completely forgotten about that.

"Jazz," Midnight said

Oh, and he was in trouble.

He should have killed that femme.

No.

Should he have?

He pushed away from the wall, feeling disoriented.

"My office. Come."

He followed her to her office, noting the glare Talon sent in his direction. He'd have to watch out for that.

"So," Midnight said once they were in her office. "You let someone see you, then let them go."

"It was a pretty femme," Jazz said. The excuse was only half fake. She _had_ been pretty, and brave—she'd hid her fear very well… and then she'd actually commed the enforcers on them after he'd threatened to hunt her down and kill her.

But if it had just been her, she would have been dead. He had to be honest. He might be willing to kill guards, enforces, and even random mecha who got in their way, but he would not kill a youngling.

Midnight was silent.

Jazz waited.

"Talon is going to find them and kill them," Midnight said at length.

Jazz looked down. Nothing to do about that.

"You jeopardized our mission and got _our_ mecha killed because you go soft over a pretty faceplate?"

"I thought we'd scared her into keeping quiet."

"Obviously, you aren't taking this seriously," Midnight said.

He looked at her. She stood, staring at her wall of weapons, looking very unhappy.

"I'm sorry. I shoulda killed her."

"I was starting to trust you—as far as I can trust my subordinates here. But if you care more about some random femme than your team, then maybe I don't want you."

Jazz looked down.

"Unfortunately, I'm stuck with you, aren't I? Branchbinder needs you for something, so I probably can't kick you out."

Huh? How much did she know?

"So, I won't do anything. I'll let justice find you some other way. Get out of my office. If you do something like that again, though, I'll kill you and face whatever consequences come."

Jazz hesitantly retreated from her office, feeling very lucky to be alive and relatively uninjured.

He retreated to his room to think for a while. He had caused a lot of deaths and injuries, and it had gotten enforcers offlined too. Enforcement was like it's own gang in a way—they got really mad when their own offlined. The streets were going to be dangerous for Quantum for a while, especially since Swallow was on the custody list. She probably knew a lot, and if they could get her to talk…

Frag, if Murk found out Jazz was responsible for this, Jazz was doomed.

Too many problems. And he was starting to feel worse about Stonethrow. That was his fault. It was his fault his friends had died, his fault for sparing that stupid femme.

He had been numb earlier. He wanted that numbness back. High grade didn't really help enough with that anymore, but he also wanted someone to talk to.

Jazz left his room and headed to the lounge. It was crowded and busy as usual. He saw the twins in a corner and went to sit by them, because he needed to tell them.

"Hey," Sideswipe said. "'Sup?"

Jazz looked down.

"Was that your team that came in all slagged?" Sunstreaker said.

"Yep," Jazz said. "Stonethrow's offline."

"Pit," Sideswipe said, looking down.

"Good riddance," Sunstreaker muttered.

"Sunny!" Sideswipe said.

Sunstreaker shuttered his optics for a moment, and Jazz almost thought he saw regret on the yellow twin's faceplate, but then his expression hardened again.

Jazz looked around the room and caught several hostile glances in his direction.

Great. Talon must have already told Spotlight or something. He jumped a little when Branchbinder commed him and requested him to meet in the storage hold.

"What?" Sideswipe said.

"Nothing," Jazz said, getting up. "I gotta go."

He left the room and headed reluctantly to the storage space where Branchbinder was waiting for him.

"I know I was stupid," Jazz said.

"More than that," Branchbinder threw a knife at him. Jazz dodged. "You were popular and well-liked, and now you'll have turned a bunch of them against you. That wasn't just a mistake, it was a disaster."

Jazz pulled the knife out of the wall and tossed it back to Branchbinder, who caught it. "Yeah."

"What the pit were you thinking?"

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you about the femme."

"Ya got me bugged?"

"I have Midnight's office bugged. You know that. _Why_ Jazz?"

Jazz didn't want to tell him it was the youngling. He could see Branchbinder forcing him to kill a youngling as punishment. "I don't know," he said again. "I just… didn't want to kill her. Sometimes you just don't want to do something ya know, and ya don't know why."

"You'd better lose the attitude," Branchbinder said. "You've just become a lot less useful to us."

"I know. I'll find a way ta fix it."

"I'm sure you will," Branchbinder said. "And we'll give you a head start." Two other mecha appeared out of the shadows. High-end assassins. This wasn't a sparring session.

At least it meant Branchbinder wasn't certain he could overpower Jazz on his own anymore.

Jazz didn't fight as Branchbinder's two friends slammed him against the wall. He couldn't beat three of them.

* * *

Jazz didn't bother going to Lilac after Branchbinder was done. He understood that this wasn't just punishment. It was an attempt to mitigate the damage, and Jazz didn't want to frustrate that.

When he showed up the next orn to the lounge, dented and limping a little more heavily than he absolutely had to, mecha assumed someone had paid him back for his grievous error the orn before.

Mecha were cold to him for a decaorn or so, which hurt so much more than what Branchbinder had done. He felt dark and empty and he'd have done anything—anything—to get back into everyone's good graces.

But before too long, mecha warmed up to him again.

Not all of them, though. Swallow was still in jail and Murk was definitely not happy with it. He wasn't openly angry, but he hadn't talked to Jazz since the mission. And that was worrying. Branchbinder wanted Jazz alive, at least for now, but if Murk decided to get revenge on him, it would be the kind of revenge where someone ended up offline.

Talon hadn't talked to him either. Jazz had expected him to show up and gloat about offlining that femme, but he hadn't, which either meant the acting troupe had gotten away, or that Talon didn't care anymore.

* * *

"Ok," Midnight said. "Beta team, your entrance is to the south. This one shouldn't be too hard, wait for my signal, but you don't have to worry about making noise when you go in. Of course, if this one goes bad, we'll just retreat, probably before I send you in, so be paying attention to your comms."

They were on another simple supply run. It was the first time Jazz had been invited on a mission since he'd gotten everyone killed.

"Why not worry about being quiet?" Talon said. "There are a scrapload of guards in there."

Midnight nodded. "I know." She turned to look at Jazz. "You."

"Yes?" Jazz said, suddenly nervous.

"There are eighteen guards in that building. I want every last one of them dead, starting with the ones at the front door. Get in there, kill them all, and take control of the security system."

Jazz stared at her. That was a suicide misson.

"Those are orders," Midnight said. "And I want to see eighteen corpses or one way or another, one of them will be yours."

Jazz nodded and slipped away into the shadows of the off-cycle. Kill all the guards. Take down the security system. He didn't even know if he could do that without being seen.

Was this a good orn to desert?

Probably not. He had a tracker on him still. He'd figured out where it was, but he wouldn't have time to really make sure he'd gotten it off before he ditched.

Besides…

Besides, where would he go?

He approached the front doors, careful of the cameras he knew were there. Midnight knew, or at least guessed, that he still didn't like killing. That was only a sometimes thing, but this orn was one of those sometimeses.

He didn't let himself hesitate, though. He threw one knife up at the camera, and then a second one at the guards. It found its mark in the farther guard's neck. He tackled the closer one, stunning him.

The first guard struggled and gasped, but his voice box was damaged so he couldn't scream as Jazz pulled the knife out and slammed it into his spark chamer.

He killed the other guard too, then got up and hacked the door.

He was inside in less than a breem. 16 guards left. The camera outside going out would probably bring someone to investigate. He needed to get to the central security room before they figured out just how serious their current problem was.

He didn't have blueprints, but he'd been in this sort of building before. He found the security center quickly, hacked his way in, and left the guards on the floor, lying in pools of their own energon. Then he checked the camera feeds to find where all the guars were, locked all the doors, and went hunting.

It almost felt like it wasn't him doing this—like he was just watching as he stalked the hallways, extinguishing one spark after another, until the building was empty and he was alone. And then he walked back to the control center, hating himself and Midnight and Branchbinder and everyone, and not sure who to blame for the energon on his hands.

He unlocked all the doors and commed Midnight. _"Ya're all clear."_

There was a moment of hesitation. It had taken him less than ten breems, Jazz realized.

She'd sent him in to die, and he didn't even have a scratch on him.

 _"Acknowledged,"_ Midnight commed. _"Alpha and Beta teams move in."_

They came, took what they wanted, and left.


	11. New Games

The next orn in the lounge, Jazz was sitting at one of the larger tables with a group of mecha, talking, joking, and trying to be even friendlier and more likable than usual. He still had a lot of work to do to repair his relationships with Midnight's team and their friends.

Murk came up behind him. Jazz had been watching the mech out of the corner of his optic, and he wasn't really surprised, though he had to fight the urge to turn around.

"Hey mech," he said when he judged Murk to be within hearing.

Something hit him from the side, knocking him out of his chair. He was ready, though, and got out of the way before Murk could hit him again.

"Hey!" he said.

"You think you can replace Swallow don't you? You think you can take her spot?"

"Calm down, mech, ya're overcharged," Jazz said.

"It's your fault she's gone. Your fault she's locked up."

"Murk," Jazz said.

Murk attacked him.

Mecha jumped out of the way as they crashed into a table, and the whole room went quiet for a moment, and then exploded as mech realized there was a fight going on. Jazz tried to disengage at first, but gave up on that when one of Murk's blades cut a deep gash in his arm.

Mecha started calling out to them. Almost everyone was encouraging Murk, but Jazz had a few on his side. The two grappled on the floor. Murk was a very good fighter, but he was overcharged and angry. Jazz let instinct take over and in half a breem he was kneeling on the other mech's chassis, and Murk's own knife was stuck halfway into his chest plate, right above his spark chamber.

The room went still.

If Jazz pushed down, it would be over.

Murk lay, staring up at him, venting in deep, pained gasps.

If Jazz didn't kill him, Murk would probably come after him again, and next time Jazz might not be ready.

He leaned forward a little and the knife slid in farther.

"Please," Murk gasped. "Please…"

Jazz hesitated. Murk was proud, and would never beg for his own life, but Jazz could see in his optics that he was asking for Swallow. They were bonded, and she was alone in some cell somewhere. If he offlined…

"Kill him!" someone said.

An echo of a voice whispered in his audios. _"Please, please don't kill me…"_

Jazz sighed and yanked the knife out. Murk screamed and mecha came forward to help him up as Jazz got up and walked back to his table.

He watched as some mecha dragged Murk to his pedes and supported him out of the room. He'd probably made a few enemies this orn, which was the _opposite_ of what he needed to be doing. Branchbinder wouldn't be happy.

That was too bad for Branchbinder.

* * *

That off-cycle, Jazz couldn't recharge. He lay on his berth, visor retracted, looking up at the faint patterns the light his optics made on the ceiling.

He didn't have anything else to do. He'd hacked all of Quantum's database, everything that he could find at least. He still had work to do regaining everyone's trust, but that wasn't something he could do during the off-cycle.

He couldn't leave, because they had a tracker on him. He was pretty sure where it was. Getting it off would be a mess, though, and Branchbinder would probably still catch up to him, even without it. And in any case, he had nowhere to go.

It was easier to stay here for now, keep his helm down, keep killing, keep sinking deeper into the darkness. Really and honestly, that was all he was good for.

But he couldn't recharge and he needed something to occupy himself with. Midnight and Murk and the others would never really forgive him. They couldn't—he'd gotten their friends killed to protect some random bystander. He needed to make that right somehow.

He sat up. He'd been toying with the idea of breaking a rule. He was pretty sure he'd get in trouble for it, but it was the sort of rule that was primarily there because no one could pull it off.

Jazz was certain he could do it, though, and if he was fast enough, Branchbinder wouldn't catch up to him in time to stop him. His visor slid back down and he opened his door and made his way through the building. Plenty of mecha were up at this joor—there weren't quite as many around as there normally were during the on-cycle, but he still ran into a few on his way out of the base.

Outside was the same way. This part of Polyhex got more dangerous in the off-cycle, but only marginally less crowded. Jazz drove since it was faster than walking. His alt mode was standard, normal, difficult to pick out in a crowd. But he knew Branchbinder was probably already after him.

He made it to the detention center that Murk had said they'd taken Swallow and the others to. It was all fences and force fields, down to the lower levels of the city. Getting in was one thing and getting out was one thing, but getting in and then out again without being seen by the guards or the mecha he was trying to rescue… that would be a feat.

Furthermore, he didn't have much time to come up with a plan because if Branchbinder showed up, the game was over.

It would be all right, though. Jazz knew how this sort of thing worked, and he already had an idea about how to get in. He had done a little research on the way over, and he knew that some mecha were due to show up for work in a few breems. He hid in the shadows of the nearest building to wait.

Right on cue, a pair of prison guards came driving in for the start of their shift and stopped at the front gate to let themselves in. Jazz left the safety of the building and darted in with them, using their shadows as cover until he could hide in the corner between the ground and the outer guard house. The guard in the little booth exchanged a few words with the two who'd just come in as he checked their ID's and then they left. The gate closed.

One barrier crossed.

Jazz took a deep vent and crept around the bottom edge of the booth. They kept the outside of the detention center very well-lit for obvious reasons. Jazz might need to find a way to turn off some of those lights.

Not now, though. One thing at a time. He made his way to the door of the guard booth and hacked it open. It slid back into the wall and he ducked down again, waiting for the guard to come investigate. Hopefully something as mundane as a faulty door wouldn't prompt him to call for back-up.

Jazz wasn't disappointed. The mech stuck his helm out the door and looked around. Jazz shot him with a stun blast and then caught him before he hit the ground. He supported the unconscious mech back into the booth and propped him up in his chair before closing the door.

"Ok, friend," he said quietly. "Let's what ya got in here."

The guard's subspace procured an ID chip, as well as a few other useful things. The booths' computer system was well-protected and it would probably take Jazz a few breems to hack into anything important. That was time he didn't have, and besides it might not be connected to the central building's computer system.

He had some good camera feeds, though, showing the outside of the building. They'd done a good job setting it up—everything overlapped and there was nothing you couldn't see. If they'd been paying attention, they'd probably seen Jazz sneak in.

And he couldn't figure out how to control the cameras or change their angles. Well then, he'd just have to be really fast. There _was_ one place the cameras didn't cover really well. If he could get there…

He climbed up and magnetized himself to the ceiling of the little guard house. The magnetism wasn't quite strong enough to hold him there, and he had to cling to the ceiling tiles with one hand, but that was all right—he wouldn't be here for long. Using a laser torch, he cut a hole large enough that he could fit through, but didn't climb up to the roof yet.

Instead, he maneuvered himself so he could stick his helm up above the roof just a little bit and look through the sights on the nice energy rifle he'd found in the guard's subspace.

From the top of the guard building, three of the cameras mounted on the walls of the main building would be able to see him. He missed twice, but managed to take them out with only five shots. Then he climbed all the way out onto the roof of the guard building and looked up at the main prison. He made a mental note to get himself some sort of grappling hook. He'd been thinking about it for a while, but now he regretted holding off. He _did_ have a rope but even if he could throw it that far, he wouldn't be able to swing over there without dipping into view of the cameras. Actually… the distance and angle were such that he'd crash into the ground.

Well…

He got out his rope and made a sort of makeshift grapple at the end with materials from his subspace. Then he judged the distance carefully—he only had one shot—and threw. He didn't dare vent as it flew through the atmosphere, over the top of the roof, landed, slid a little, and then caught on something.

He gave it a few experimental tugs to make sure it was stable. Then he pulled it taut and dropped back down with the end of it into the guard booth. He secured it tightly to a sturdy-looking pipe coming out of the wall, and went back up to the roof. He didn't have to swing across if he could climb, but he needed to move quickly. Time was running out. They'd be out to investigate the damaged cameras soon and he had to disappear before that happened.

He climbed up the rope quickly—it was easier since it was at an angle, not vertical—and got to the roof of the main building. The grapple had hooked onto what looked like part of the ventilation system. He checked, but unfortunately the vents were too small for him to fit into.

Oh well, he'd already had another idea about how to get in. He went back to the edge of the roof and started climbing down. About halfway up there were these big floodlights. They lit the ground really well because they were _bright._ Too bright to stare at directly. Jazz maneuvered over to one and clung to it, holding as still as he could. You could use shadows to hide, but you could also use light.

He didn't have to wait long before the door opened and several guards came out. He watched as they looked around, and discussed the rope that stretched from the top of the guard booth to the top of the main prison. They were probably already sending someone up to investigate the roof.

He waited until no one was paying attention, then dropped quietly to the ground and slipped in through the front door.

Now, there would be cameras in the inside of this place too, and he was probably showing up all over them at the moment, but as soon as he could find a way into the computer system, he could fix that. Hopefully no one would get too close of a look at him before then. He dashed down a side hallway and found a closet to hide in. He had paid attention to where the cameras were and he was pretty sure he'd managed to avoid enough of them to keep him hidden for a few breems. He got out a datapad and plugged the booth guard's ID chip into it. Then he used that mech's access code to get a pede in the door—as it were—into the main computer system. He found the camera controls and moved some of them to give him a clear path, then he selected an empty cell and logged himself in as a prisoner under a fake designation.

Then he crept through the halls, hacked the cell door, and locked himself inside. They would be looking for him, but no one would look for him in an occupied, locked prison cell.

Sure, if they did find him here, he'd be in trouble, but he did have some advantages that most prisoners didn't. Weapons, for example.

He sat with his back to the cell door and turned the datapad's screen downward, angling it so neither mecha outside or the camera in the corner of the cell could see it.

And then he started messing with things. First he replaced the hallway camera files that he'd shown up on with empty looped files. If anyone had seen him on them, only their memories would still hold his appearance and that wasn't enough to run any face recognition programs, especially since he had a visor.

He watched remotely as they swept the building, looking for the intruder. They checked closets and rooms and even the ventilation system. They ran diagnostics on the computer system as well, but Jazz's hack was almost completely untraceable and unnoticeable.

He put the datapad in subspace when he heard footsteps down the hall. A guard came past with a datapad of his own, probably checking to make sure all the prisoners were present and accounted for. Jazz leaned against the side wall, turning so the guard wouldn't get a good look at his faceplate. He walked past, and Jazz smiled slightly and shuttered his optics. Now he was in and safe. He just had to wait until they were no longer looking for an intruder, and then he could break Swallow and the others out.

It took a while. In that time, he set everything up, adjusting camera angles, and working his way into every system in the whole building. By the time things had calmed down, he had control of all the doors, lights, and cameras. He plotted a route for Swallow and the others, set everything up, and then broke out of his cell. He got out another, smaller datapad, as he crept to Swallow's cell and left it just outside the door for her to find. It had some simple instructions for her.

Then he set things in motion. He turned some of the lights off, locked guards in hallways, took over the building's comm. network, and shut down security everywhere.

Then he remotely unlocked the cells of all the Quantum mecha.

He watched on the cameras as Swallow stepped out, looking around, and picked up the datapad. He hoped she'd trust it enough to follow the instructions.

She did. She got all the others together and left the building. Jazz followed, making sure the coast was clear, until they sneaked out the back. When they reached the force field, Jazz turned it off so it was safe to climb over the fence. He followed them out over it and waited for them to disappear into the city.

They would make it back all right. He hoped they wouldn't get in trouble for being rescued. They could just claim they'd broken out.

Jazz was probably going to be in trouble, though.

He looked up at the stars. He could run. Maybe he _should._ He was pretty sure Branchbinder would be back at base waiting to punish him… if the assassin wasn't lurking in the shadows somewhere.

He knew where his tracker was now. He could take it out, and then they'd never be able to follow him. He was pretty sure he'd be able to disappear.

He heard sirens and ducked around a corner. On a whim, he broke into a nearby skyscraper and made his way silently up to the top floor and then out onto the roof.

He locked the roof access door behind himself, and went over to the railing. From there, he could see the detention center He watched the commotion below, pulling out a small knife and playing with it as he did so.

Leaving was a possibility, but a dangerous one. He'd have to be careful about Branchbinder hunting him down, but if Branchbinder tried to kill him at this point, it would almost be an even fight. And Branch would have to find him first. Jazz was good at hiding.

No, the real reason he hadn't left yet was that he actually _liked_ some parts of this. He smiled down at the flashing lights, the enforcers and the prison guards. He'd pulled that off so neatly that they probably still had no idea what had happened. He'd slipped his friends out right under their olfactory sensors.

If he left Quantum, where would he get opportunities to do things like this?

He looked down at his knife. If he cut out his tracker and left, then where would he go?

Branchbinder commed him.

Jazz hesitated, then answered. "Hey, mech," he said brightly. "Ya're up late. What can I do for ya?"

" _Are you coming back here, or do I need to go fetch you?"_ Branchbinder's voice was low and threatening.

Right. Jazz was in trouble.

" _And don't sound so pleased with yourself. You know this means you're going to lose the privilege of leaving headquarters altogether now."_

Jazz looked back at the detention center. That reminded him of what Lithium had said to him.

 _If you test your boundaries, Branchbinder will tighten the leash, little turbo-pup._

He'd been right about that.

" _Jazz! I said are you coming back or do I need to bring you back in pieces? I_ will _do it."_

"Ok, ok," Jazz said. "Calm the frag down. I'm coming back."

Jazz turned to walk away from the railing, and more of his conversation with Lithium played through his helm. _Seems like there ought to be a way out, doesn't there… well there isn't one._

But there was. Jazz could leave right now if he wanted. It wouldn't be any harder than breaking out of that detention center had been…

And he could probably get his friends out too.

He hesitated.

He was pretty sure the twins wanted out. And he knew other mecha as well—mecha he was keeping an optic on, but hadn't wanted to tell Branchbinder about. He could probably list ten or twenty off the top of his helm who would leave this life behind if they ever had a chance.

He could give them that chance.

It would be difficult. He'd have to outsmart Branchbinder—frag, _he_ was the one who was supposed to prevent that sort of thing, so he'd have to outsmart _himself._

He smiled as he headed back to the roof access door.

That sounded like a lot of fun.

* * *

Branchbinder and two of Hegemony's bodyguards were waiting for him at the back entrance of Quantum headquarters. He didn't resist as the guards put stasis cuffs on him and dragged him through the building to Hegemony's throne room.

They threw him to the ground in front of the mech who currently called himself the leader of Quantum, and Jazz waited for someone to address him, or give the guards orders to start beating him.

Silence stretched out for almost a breem.

And then Hegemony spoke.

"Are you afraid?"

Jazz let himself look up at the dark-colored mech. "Afraid? I… well, I know I broke some rules… that generally leads ta getting hurt, so… yeah, I guess I'm scared. Shouldn't I be?"

"I just wondered," Hegemony said. He looked thoughtful, not angry like Branchbinder. But then again, rumor was Hegemony almost never lost his cool, even when he was furious on the inside.

"Do you know why we have that rule, Jazz? About not trying to rescue mecha from detention centers."

Jazz got to his pedes, which was a little awkward while wearing stasis cuffs. "Cuz… it usually just leads ta _more_ mecha ending up in detention centers?"

"Yes, there's that," Hegemony said. "It's very dangerous. But leaving those mecha there also makes enforcement feel like they're in control—like they have a say in how we operate. Take that away and they stop playing nice with us. If someone really important ends up in prison, we can always barter for their release, but it's good to let them keep a few every once in a while, just so they feel like they have power over us."

Jazz felt cold—maybe he _should_ have tried running. What if they decided to kill him? He might— _might—_ be able to take Branchbinder in a fight, but he couldn't beat all of the mecha in this room all at once.

"However," Hegemony said. "You _did_ manage to break those mecha out. All by yourself too. That's a kind of impressive that we can't ignore. So I don't think I'm going to have you killed."

Jazz vented deeply, relieved.

"In fact, I think Branchbinder has trained you enough."

"What?" Branchbinder said.

Hegemony looked at him.

"I apologize for my tone," Branchbinder said. "But he's still barely more than a mechling…"

"Yes," Hegemony said. "And he's already outgrowing you. Don't worry, I'm not promoting him _above_ you, just moving him to the next stage. Jazz."

"Yes?"

"From now on, you answer directly to me. All of the rules Branchbinder gave you—and more—will apply. And don't think you can talk back to me like you talked back to Branch. He likes it—I don't. If you want to try something like that stunt at the detention center, ask me first. I'm occasionally willing to permit that sort of thing, if you're confident that you'll be successful. But if you fail or disobey me, I will keep trying different consequences until I find one that is effective."

Jazz took a moment to process that. More than one thing was changing this off-cycle.

"You'll still be doing what you did before. I'll leave you on Midnight's team, and I want you to continue looking for traitors. I might have you hack some things for me as well, now and then."

"Do I get a raise?" Jazz quipped.

Hegemony stared at him.

Jazz looked down. "Sorry, Sir."

Silence stretched out for a few astroseconds and then Hegemony nodded slightly. "If you want one," he said. "But not until you've proved yourself. I hear you've fallen out of favor with your team. Repair that damage and we can talk about giving you more credit. That's all in the future, though. This off-cycle, you broke several very important rules."

Right. Jazz looked down at his stasis-cuffed hands.

"First, empty his subspace."

One of the guards held him while Branchbinder accessed his subspace and started removing things from it. There were a lot of odds and ends. Empty energon cubes, knives, interesting pieces of gravel, various different electronic devices, games, vials of energon additives, data chips…

"Well," Branchbinder held up his datapad. "I think I confiscated something like this from you once, when I caught you hacking things you weren't supposed to hack."

Oh yeah. There was that too. He hoped they gave it back. It had taken ages to format it the way he wanted it.

Eventually his subspace was empty. They let him go and he backed away from the guards and Branchbinder.

"You can have all of that back in a few orns," Hegemony said. "Once you're out of the dungeon. Mechs."

All four of Hegemony's bodyguards advanced on him. Running or fighting would be useless while he was in stasis cuffs. But even knowing that, it was difficult to hold his ground.

He let them knock him down, shuttering his optics, trying to vent deeply. It was just pain. Nothing unusual.

* * *

Jazz came online slowly and then just lay there, optics shuttered, waiting for the agony to recede. It didn't.

Eventually, he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but that really just made things worse. The stasis-cuffs on his wrists made it difficult, but he eventually managed to sit up. His energon levels were low, and he could feel things shifting around inside of him that he was pretty sure weren't supposed to move. He sat against the wall. Maybe he should just shut himself down again.

He wished they hadn't taken everything from his subspace. He'd had some serious painkillers in there. Stuff you couldn't get at your local energon depot.

He took in a deep vent and started the process of shutting himself down. Not everyone could do it—fighting unconsciousness was a natural instinct, and it took a lot of control to knock yourself out, especially if there was anything to distract you.

It took Jazz a couple of tries, but eventually he managed, and blissful nothingness enveloped him.

* * *

The next time he woke, he was a little more alert—enough to spend some time studying his surroundings by the dim light of his optics. He was in a tiny rectangular cell. It had solid walls, and the door was solid as well, with a small barred window up at optic level.

He'd never been here before. Branchbinder had locked him in his room once or twice, but the dungeon was for mecha on normal teams. If you got in trouble with your team leader, they could have you brought here and stuck in a cell for a couple of orns with no energon.

Jazz certainly hoped he wouldn't be here for a couple of orns. He was already wishing he had someone to talk to. He knew there were other cells around them, and some of them must be full. He might be able to start up a conversation with someone else in the dungeon…

But he also needed to come up with a plan.

He had a lot of work to do. He wouldn't have Branchbinder hovering over him anymore, which was nice, but Hegemony would probably be almost as bad. And you did _not_ cross Hegemony.

Jazz needed to be more cautious. And he needed to start building up a network of mecha who could help him. It would be risky to involve other mecha, but he didn't have enough information on his own. He schemed and planned until his energon dropped to critical levels, and then he shut himself down again.

He came online when someone suddenly lifted him to his pedes. He fought weakly for an astrosecond, but that hurt too much so he went limp and let them drag him out of the cell. He wasn't quite strong enough to walk, so he ended up getting mostly pulled along for a while.

Then he collapsed and had to be carried.

He tried to pay attention to where they were going. They stopped eventually, in front of a very familiar door and took the stasis-cuffs off. Jazz gasped as fresh agony shot up his arms. Those cuffs had been on far too long.

The door opened and they tossed him in.

"Hey! I'm fragging closed."

"Then kick him out," the guard said. "But Hegemony won't be happy if he offlines."

Lilac growled. "Go away."

Jazz heard the door shut.

"Do you know what time it is?" Lilac said. "It's fragging forty joors. It's not even the on-cycle yet."

"Sorry," Jazz muttered, trying to get up off the floor.

"You're lucky I like you, mechling." She came over and helped him to his pedes, then guided him over to the berth.


	12. Allies

Jazz sat in the lounge, watching as he worked. He left his visor up because he liked the way the glowing brand looked in the darkness. He had a datapad out, and was working on a difficult project Hegemony had given him, but he was also keeping track of who was here, who talked to who, and how long each mech or femme stayed.

Sideswipe came in and sat down halfway across the room at an empty table. The twins were definitely on the list he was compiling of mecha who might want to leave. Jazz had been meaning to talk to them.

Not now, though. Sunstreaker wasn't with him, for one thing, and for another you really couldn't talk openly about things in the lounge. There were too many audios.

He kept working, thinking, planning. He didn't want to make his first move until he knew everything was in place, and besides, if he started sneaking mecha out too soon it would be suspicious. He still hadn't made any allies yet.

Despite his initial confidence, he'd come to realize this was going to be _much_ more difficult than breaking mecha out of jail.

They hadn't given him back his datapad. Instead, they'd given him a new one with all sorts of restrictions on it. Getting past those without letting them know what he was doing was proving difficult, but he would manage it eventually.

Sideswipe didn't leave. Once in a while someone would go try and talk to him, but they'd leave again after a breem or less. And in between that, Sideswipe just sat at his table—he didn't even have a cube of eneron or anything.

After a couple of joors, Jazz got worried and did some quick research. Apparently, Sunstreaker had been locked up for insubordination of some sort.

Well, it could be worse… that must really rust for Sideswipe though. The records weren't very specific, but whatever it was, it had happened the orn before. Jazz had never seen the two of them away from each other for more than a few joors at a time.

He waited a little longer, weighing the consequences of being seen talking to someone who might be deserting soon against the opportunity to try and cheer his friend up. Then he got up and went to sit across from the red mech. Up close, Jazz could see Sideswipe was covered in scrapes and dents, some of which looked deep and painful.

"Hey, mech," he said.

Sideswipe nodded, but didn't say anything. His optics were dull and he seemed a little dazed.

"Where's Sunstreaker?"

"Locked up somewhere," Sideswipe said. "What do you want?"

"Just thought I'd come say hi," Jazz said. "What happened? Ya should got see Lilac."

Sideswipe didn't react, just looked down at his arm on the table.

"Sides, mech, you've been sitting here for joors. What's going on?"

"Why do _you_ care?"

"We're friends, right?"

"No," Sideswipe finally looked up at him.

Jazz couldn't meet his gaze for long before looking away and letting his visor slide down to cover his optics.

Sideswipe sighed. "It's not that complicated," he said. "I got in trouble. Sunny wouldn't let them punish me for it, so they about killed him and then locked him up to heal on his own. You know, average every-orn stuff." Sideswipe winced.

"Yeah," Jazz said.

"Of course, some orns it's _us_ beating _other_ mecha up… I don't know, Jazz, sorry I said we aren't friends. I'm just…"

"It's ok."

"You know… I don't know what I wanted to do with my life, but whatever it was, _this_ wasn't it."

Pit no, don't say that right now. "Talk like that'll get ya unwanted attention."

"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "Sunny's always saying that. But…" he glanced around. "I'm not worried about you hearing."

This was _not_ the right place to have this conversation.

"Jazz."

"Hmm?"

"I don't know if… never mind," Sideswipe rubbed a deep scratch on his arm and shuttered his optics.

"Ya should go see Lilac."

"I can't."

He probably didn't feel right getting medical attention when Sunstreaker was locked up somewhere, badly injured.

"Ya _should_ ," Jazz insisted, getting up from the table. "She might be able ta help somehow."

He turned and walked away. Yes, the twins were first on his list. He'd get them out of here, even if he didn't manage to help anyone else leave. He owed it to them.

* * *

Jazz hacked the camera in his room and started feeding it false data, then got up and turned the lights on. It was the middle of the off-cycle, but that didn't mean they weren't watching the cameras. He pulled a small mirror out of subspace and propped it up in the corner between the desk and the wall. Then he retracted his visor. His optics stared back at him, cold and determined. He reached up to trace the word written across his faceplate. He'd hacked into Lilac's records and knew exactly where the tracker was—in a section of the first letter of the brand. It was rigged though, and would alert them if he removed it or tampered with it. It was welded both to the brand and his faceplate, so he couldn't just pry the brand off.

But since he knew that, he could work around it, and since he had a visor, no one would notice.

He pulled out a long, slim knife and took in a deep vent. If he could get access to the system that monitored the trackers, there would be other ways to do this, but he hadn't been able to do that. He was pretty sure only Hegemony had complete access to them. Probably only a few of the highest ranking mecha even _knew_ the trackers existed, excluding Lilac, of course. Jazz had figured out how to detect them, and he could access their location, but he couldn't disable them.

He shuttered his optics for a moment and forced his pain receptors down as low as he could get them, telling himself it wouldn't be that bad. Then he un-shuttered his optics again and watched in the mirror as he set the tip of the knife on the brand and pushed it in. Fire blossomed across his faceplate, but he just braced himself against the pain and focused. He pulled the knife out and turned it ninety degrees before pushing it back in.

Pit, that hurt. He pulled the now energon-streaked knife out and held it in one hand. Two more. He couldn't back out now, he was halfway there. He gritted his denta and cut again. The last cut completed the square, but he still had to stick the knife back in to pry the piece out, which hurt more than the rest combined.

The chunk of energon-covered metal flew out and he dropped his knife as it plinked onto the desk. Then he leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk, optics shuttered, waiting in silence for the pain to retreat. After he took a few deep vents, he sat up and looked in the mirror again. Energon ran in a little stream down his faceplate, originating from the roughly square-shaped hole in the first letter of the brand.

Now he had to see if it had worked. He got his datapad out and accessed the tracker database and found his tracker. Then he left his room, and crept around headquarters. The tracker said he was still in his room. Perfect. He'd keep it with him during the on-cycle and whenever he was around other mecha. But he could go places without anyone knowing now. He wasn't worried about anyone seeing him on the cameras, of course. He practically _owned_ the cameras at this point.

Well, that was part one of his plans for the off-cycle. Part two was a little more risky, but he was almost certain that it was the right move.

Hegemony's third in command, Lithium, had avoided every attempt Jazz had made to talk to him, but Jazz had done a _lot_ of research on the mech, and he was pretty sure he would be willing to help him.

Jazz crept through the base. Lithium also lived at headquarters, and was currently recharging in his room. The lights were off, which was convenient. Jazz replaced that camera feed with a loop and did a similar thing with the microphone connected to the camera.

Then he broke into the room. Lithium didn't come online as Jazz slipped in and closed the door behind himself so Jazz sat at his desk, then reached over and turned the lights on.

The mech twitched, and Jazz waited as his systems booted up and his optics lit.

Lithium sat up. "What…. What's going on? Who… you…"

"Hey," Jazz said, then flinched as the motion agitated the new hole in his faceplate. "So… ya know what ya said ta me, last time we talked?"

"What the frag are you doing here?" Lithium growled. "Get out of my room!"

"Keep it down, mech, someone out in the halls might hear."

"What do you want?"

"Calm down," Jazz said. "And don't worry, I took care of the cameras so this is a private conversation." He really should have thought this through better. Every time he spoke, it felt like someone was sticking a knife into his faceplate.

Lithium put a hand to his helm. "Primus…" he said, then looked at Jazz again. "What did you say?"

"I said I took care of the cameras. Take your time coming online, ok? Sorry I had ta do this in the middle of the off-cycle, but ya were avoiding me." Maybe he should have waited to come have this conversation after his faceplate had healed a little, but it was too late now.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lithium said. "Get out of my room before I comm. someone to come and forcibly remove you."

"I want ya ta remember something," Jazz said, trying to focus on the conversation and ignore the pain. This was very important. "Something ya said ta me last time we talked."

"I have never talked to you before."

"Yeah ya did," Jazz said. "Ya caught me recharging in a hallway. I told ya I hadn't meant ta end up in Quantum, and ya said there wasn't a way out."

Lithium glared at him.

"Well," Jazz said. "Ya were right. There isn't a way out, not currently. But… but there _could_ be."

"Look," Lithium said. "I don't know what you're talking about, and whatever you want me to do, I _won't do it._ "

"I can get mecha out," Jazz said. "I can get _you_ out if ya want."

"No," Lithium said. "You haven't thought this through very well. I know _exactly_ what your job is. In case you've forgotten, I happen to be one of Hegemony's closest advisors. I know who you are, Jazz, and what you want."

"Do ya?" Jazz asked. "I've thought this through better than ya know. And I swear nothing ya say in this room right now will make it ta Hegemony's audios. Look…" Jazz raised his visor so the other mech could see his faceplate. "…I'm serious about this leaving thing. I know what it's like ta be trapped here and ta hate it. I think you know what it's like too… I think a lot of mecha know what that's like. And, well, I managed ta break a whole group of mecha out of a detention center without much trouble, so I figured I'd give this a try."

Lithium stared at him, then swung his legs over the side of the berth and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of them.

"Mech?"

"Hush," Lithium said.

Jazz waited for half a breem before speaking again. "My tracker's back in my room. They think I'm recharging. No one knows I'm here. I've turned off the camera and the audio from this room, as well as mine, and I'm pretty sure no one saw me crossing headquarters. I can stick the tracker back in, though, during the on-cycle. I can hack inta just about anything. I can do this."

"So what exactly do you need me for?"

"Three things," Jazz said. "First, ya're powerful. Ya have knowledge and access ta things that even _I_ don't. Second, mecha trust you. Mecha know that you're not like the others—that you still have a spark. Spotlight knows, Resin knows…"

"And?" Lithium asked.

"And if I came ta them and said 'hey, ya want out?' they'd be real suspicious. But if _you_ talked ta them…"

"I see," Lithium muttered.

"Also," Jazz said. "Well… I think after a while, Hegemony's gonna figure it out—that someone's setting his mecha loose."

"Hmm."

"Yeah, and I'm gonna need someone ta take the blame so I can stay here and keep doing it when new mecha come in. So… we frame you, then I get you out too. Ya… Ya _do_ want ta leave, right?" Jazz resisted the temptation to reach up and touch the wound on his faceplate. It hurt like _pit._

Lithium sighed and shook his helm. "I can't tell if you're being honest. And there's no way on Cybertron that I'd _ever_ give you a list of mecha who I think might like to desert."

"Ya think they'd tell me about the tracker?" Jazz said. "Just so I could pretend ta come here and ask ya ta do this? Ya think Hegemony trusts _me_ more than he trusts _you_?"

Lithium seemed to consider that.

"Look, I got a couple of friends here who need ta get out of this place. I'd like ta try breaking them out first. But… even if that goes well, I only have guesses about other mecha. That ain't what I look for when I'm looking for traitors. If discontentment was what I was looking for, I would have had ta put _myself_ on the list."

"Let's say…" Lithium said. "Let's say you're telling the truth, and let's say you _can_ break mecha out, where do they go? Even without the trackers, Quantum will hunt for them, and they'll never really be safe."

"There are ways ta hide," Jazz said. "Ways ta start new lives. I can help with that too."

"And you… you want me to be a scapegoat. You want me to pretend I'm the one breaking everyone out and then you want _me_ to leave."

"Well, do ya want ta leave?"

"Do you realize I could take this conversation to Hegemony. He would believe me before he'd believe you. Do you know what would happen to you if I did that?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "I know what happens ta traitors, mech. But I figured—"

"Coming to me is a huge risk," Lithium said. "Even if I _was_ interested in this project, I'd never agree to it. I can't trust someone who's so careless. If you'll gamble with your own life like that, you'll gamble with everyone else's. You'll get mecha killed."

"This life is hazardous," Jazz said. "Just _being_ in Quantum is hazardous. We offline all the time. The difference is we offline doing things that are _wrong._ I want ta give mecha a chance ta leave that—at least the crime part. I ain't gonna force anyone, but I'm gonna give them the option. And if ya won't help me, then I'll do it on my own, and it'll be even riskier."

Lithium shook his helm. "No," he said. "I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't. That is final, and if you don't leave my room _immediately,_ I'll tell Hegemony you've removed your tracker."

"Fair enough," Jazz said. "Think about it, though. I'll see ya around, mech."

Jazz reached over and turned the lights off, then let his visor slide down to cover his faceplate before slipping out of the room.

Well, that might have been a waste of time.

Jazz headed back to his own room and shut the door . He sat at his desk, and raised his visor, venting deeply. His faceplate hurt so much it was giving him a processor ache. It felt like someone had stuck his entire helm in a smelting pit.

After a breem, he got out the little mirror he'd been using before. There was a solid streak of drying energon down his face, and it had dripped off his chin as well. He got out a mesh rag and some solvent and carefully cleaned it off, then wiped down the little piece attached to the tracker as well.

He gritted his denta and slid it back into its spot. It stayed fairly well, but he'd probably want to put something adhesive on it to keep it in in the future. And he'd need to remove and replace it frequently or it might heal back into the rest of his faceplate.

After a breem or so, he lay down on his berth, but the pain kept him online for more than a joor, and by then he didn't have much of the off-cycle left to recharge.

* * *

Jazz waited anxiously for them to let Sunstreaker out so that he could talk to the twins. It took a couple of orns, by the end of which Jazz was starting to worry about Sideswipe a little.

But eventually, they _did_ let Sunstreaker go.

That off-cycle, Jazz took his tracker out and set it on his desk before leaving headquarters. He made his way through Polyhex to the little apartment where the twins lived. He didn't bother knocking, not wanting to risk alerting any of their neighbors. It would be best if no one else found out he'd been here.

As he'd anticipated, half of the two-room apartment was messy, and the other half was obsessively neat. He walked silently into the room where they were recharging. He needed to wake them up without freaking them out. He tapped a pede on the floor, thinking.

Sunstreaker's optics lit up.

"Oh, hey mech," Jazz whispered.

Sunstreaker turned to look at him and pulled a long knife out of subspace, narrowing his optics. Even lying down, he was intimidating.

"It's ok," Jazz said calmly.

Sideswipe moaned from his berth on the other side of the room. "Sunny, frag it, stop waking me up every single time an alt mode goes past…"

"Don't move," Sunstreaker said.

"Hey!" Sideswipe sat up. "Who the pit…"

"What do you want?" Sunstreaker asked, slowly sitting up as well.

"I wanna talk," Jazz said.

"Jazz?" Sideswipe said.

"Yep," Jazz sat down on the ground. "I got a question for the two of ya. Of course, ya're only gonna answer truthfully if ya trust me, and I wouldn't blame ya if ya don't."

Silence stretched out for a few astroseconds.

"What's the question?" Sideswipe asked.

"If ya could leave Quantum… if ya could leave and get away with it, and not have ta worry about anymech coming after ya, would ya?"

Both pairs of glowing yellow optics stared at him.

Sideswipe started to say something, but Sunstreaker cut him off. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"Cuz the reason we all got tangled up in this mess is…" Jazz took a deep vent. "Branchbinder wanted me, not any of the rest of ya. And I feel bad that the two of ya got dragged along. I can help ya get out. I can help ya leave, find a new life… but only if ya trust me."

"Which we shouldn't," Sunstreaker said. "What did Branchbinder want you for? To take over from him? Wasn't his job catching traitors and deserters?"

Jazz nodded. "Puts me in a good position ta help traitors and deserters if I want."

"You wouldn't put your own safety on the line to help us," Sunstreaker said. "And we aren't leaving. We're fine where we are. Get out."

Jazz looked down.

"Give him some credit," Sideswipe said. "We've been friends for vorns."

"We aren't the same mecha we were when we were friends," Sunstreaker said. "We don't want your help."

Jazz nodded and stood. "I thought this might go this way, and I'm sorry I don't have your trust. I just don't want ta see ya offline cuz of me, like Stones did."

He was surprised at the emotion that accompanied actually putting that to words. It was his fault Stonethrow was dead—his fault in so many ways.

"I think we can trust him," Sideswipe said.

Jazz hesitated.

"Why would he be doing this otherwise? Think about it. If he went and asked other mecha this stuff, wouldn't there be rumors about it? In any case, this place is pit, so if there's a way to get out…"

"Sides."

"And don't say we're fine here," Sideswipe said. "If you're going to pull stunts like what you did half a decaorn ago, we can't stay here."

"That was—"

"No," Sideswipe said. "I might have ended up with a couple more dents, but we'd have been fine. Instead you had to get involved and we ended up _separated_ for four orns."

Sunstreaker sighed.

"In any case," Sideswipe said. "Are you _sure_ you can get us out?"

"Pretty sure," Jazz said. "It won't be right away. I was seen talking to ya just a few orns ago. And I need ta plan a good time. Sunny's right, I'm putting myself in a difficult position if I help ya leave. So I gotta make it impossible for them ta figure out that I was involved, which'll be hard, cuz it's common knowledge we know each other."

"What if we don't want to leave?" Sunstreaker said.

"Stop playing, mech," Jazz said. "I know ya hate it here."

"If there's a chance this could work…" Sideswipe said. "Come on, Sunny."

It was hard to read his expression in the dark, but Sunstreaker seemed to be at least considering it.

"All right," he said at length. "What do you want us to do?"

"Play it cool for now," Jazz said. I wanted ta make sure ya were on board before I came up with a solid plan. I'll be back ta talk to ya another off-cycle, ok?"

They nodded.

"Take care of yourselves until then, ok?" Jazz said, and then left, locking their apartment behind himself and starting back toward headquarters.

He could leave whenever he wanted now. He could run away…

Or he could stay and make trouble.

That second option sounded like a lot more fun.


	13. Freedom

As far as Jazz knew, the twins didn't tell anyone about his offer. Jazz kept doing his job, always watching for a good opportunity. He'd want them to escape while he was off-base on some sort of mission, and that didn't happen too often.

He got injured several decaorns after making his tracker removable, but did his best to repair himself because if Lilac happened to scan his helm at all, she'd know what he'd done.

Eventually, an opportunity to help the twins came. Jazz was assigned to wait in a warehouse at the edge of the sector and keep watch on some of the buildings across the street, looking for known agents from a rival gang. He wasn't expected to be back for joors. He left his tracker in his hiding spot and went to find the twins.

They were waiting for him in their apartment.

"Hey, mechs," he said once he was inside. "Ready?"

Sideswipe nodded.

"Ok," Jazz said. "I've got untraceable groundbridge tickets to Blaster City. It should be pretty easy ta go anywhere ya want from there. They'll probably be looking for ya for a while, so keep your helms down for a quartex or so, ok?"

"Got it," Sideswipe said.

"I told ya they've got trackers on ya," Jazz said. "We're gonna need ta cut them off, and because of the way they're attached, well…" he retracted his visor to show them the hole in his faceplate. "Ya can get it repaired after, of course, but it'll be attached ta your mesh and we have ta take the tracker without damaging it, or it'll let them know ya're tampering with it."

"Ok," Sideswipe said. "It's in the brand, huh?"

Jazz nodded.

Sideswipe looked at his arm where his brand was. "Well, I never liked this thing anyway. Go for it."

Jazz walked over to him and pulled out a little scanning device he'd stolen from Lilac. He turned it on and waved it over the brand until he found the tracker. Then he pulled out a knife. "Turn your pain receptors down."

"Done," Sideswipe said.

"Ok. Hold still."

Cutting out Sideswipe's tracker was significantly easier than his own, because he didn't have to do it in a mirror. Also, since it was just his arm, it probably hurt a lot less. He needed to cut a bigger chunk out, though, so he could make a shape that was possible to pry out.

Sideswipe flinched a couple of times, but it was over quickly.

When Jazz was done, he set the tracker on the table and looked at Sunstreaker.

The yellow mech stared back for an astrosecond, and then reached out and set his hand on the table in front of Jazz, palm down. The brand was on the back.

"Hmm…" Jazz said.. "I don't know if… this might be kinda tricky. Let me think for a moment."

"Just cut all the way through," Sunstreaker said.

"Ya sure?"

"Wouldn't that be easiest?"

"It's gonna be hard ta cut at all—hands are normally made of stronger material, so I'm not even sure if my knife will go through it real well."

Sunstreaker frowned and glanced at Sideswipe.

"Sorry," Jazz said. "I mean… if ya want we could leave your entire hand here. I don't know if that would be any easier, though…"

"Just fragging cut it out," Sunstreaker said. "I'm not a youngling, I can handle it."

Jazz nodded and put a hand on Sunstreaker's fingers, holding his hand down on the table. He scanned for the tracker, which—as he had suspected—was right in the middle. Then he got out a less delicate, sturdier knife, took a deep vent, and brought it down on Sunstreaker's hand. Sideswipe flinched, but the yellow twin just looked off to the side as Jazz pulled the knife out and got ready to make the second cut..

They were all shaking a little by the time Jazz was done.

"Ok," he said. "No turning back now, mechs."

"You know," Sideswipe said as Sunstreaker cradled his leaking hand, grimacing. "You could come with."

"Ya know, I could," Jazz said. "I've been wanting ta escape this place since I first got here."

"So… you coming?"

"Eh," Jazz said. "Nah. Not like this. This is too easy. Besides, somemech's gotta cover your tracks. Here." He pulled out a data chip. "Here's the groundbridge tickets. And there's a way ta contact me if ya absolutely have ta, but don't expect a quick answer, cuz I gotta keep cover."

"Thanks." Sideswipe accepted the chip.

"And stay out of trouble."

"Do we ever?" Sideswipe asked.

That was a good point. Jazz just shook his helm, then left. Maybe he _should_ go with them. He didn't really have any close friends here who he knew wanted to leave, so he really didn't have anything to stay for.

But he was sure there _were_ mecha he could help. And he'd try to help as many as he could, before he needed to bail.

He went back to his post.

* * *

Jazz sat in the lounge, chatting with some of the mechs from Blackangle's team. He'd originally just intended to ask if anyone knew where Blackie was, but he'd gotten sucked into the conversation.

There hadn't been too much of a stir over the twins disappearing. Jazz, of course, had been tasked with finding out where they'd gone and how they'd known about the trackers. He'd put quite a bit of effort into hunting them down—he'd even accidentally found them once or twice. But he was able to keep that information from his superiors. Sometimes things like this just happened—mecha slipped through the cracks in the system.

It had been six decaorns since they'd disappeared, and already he'd gotten a second mech out—he'd caught a new recruit trying to desert, and talked him into waiting until Jazz could give him a better opportunity. Then, a couple of decaorns after that, Jazz had helped him fake his death, and relocated him to a safe sector of Kalis.

"—mech. You listeing?"

"Hmm?" Jazz said. "Sorry, no. what did ya say?"

"You were friends with Blackangle in secondary school, right?"

"Um… yeah," Jazz said. "That ain't why I was looking for him, though. We ain't really friends anymore."

Spotlight came over and playfully nudged Jazz over a little so she could sit too. "Who's not friends with who?"

"It's just we don't keep up," Jazz said. "He went one way I went another."

"Well, he did better than you," One of the other mechs at the table said. "I think he's on his way up to the top. I saw him talking to Feedback the other orn."

"Blackangle?" Spotlight said. "Yeah. Mech's definitely the ambitious type."

Spotlight slipped something small and rectangular into Jazz's hand. He took it, frowning, and covertly subspaced it. It felt like a data chip.

"Well," he said. "If you mechs don't know where he is, I gotta go keep looking for him."

"See you, Jazz," one of them said.

Jazz smiled and left. He wanted to look at whatever Spotlight had given him, but he needed to find a safe place.

He pulled out his own datapad and looked on the cameras until he'd found Blackangle, then started walking in that direction.

Jazz wouldn't be surprised if his old friend _did_ get promoted soon. He'd done very well with his own team. He was clever and charismatic and willing to do whatever it took to accomplish his goals.

It had caught Hegemony's attention for certain.

Jazz stopped just outside the hold, where Blackangle and another team leader were talking about a shipment that their teams had worked together on intercepting.

Before he went in, he pulled out the chip Spotlight had given him and inserted it into a port in his datapad, careful to hide it from view of the camera that hung from the ceiling nearby.

Fortunately, the message on it was short.

[I've changed my mind, little turbo-pup. Come talk to me when it's safe.]

Jazz tried not to smile as he turned the datapad off and stuck it back into his subspace. Lithium had called him that the first time they'd talked.

Headquarters was never really quiet. There was no joor of the off-cycle that Jazz could traverse the building without the risk of running into someone. But he was very good at moving without being seen.

He made it to Lithium's room without any problems. Once again, he hacked the camera and microphone and fed them false data so he could sneak in.

This time, the lights came on as soon as Jazz closed the door.

"Hey," he said. "I got your—"

"Yes," Lithium cut him off. He gestured to his desk chair. "I notice you got your friends out."

"Yep," Jazz said, sitting. "Obviously I can't keep doin' it that way but it worked for them. Ya got someone ya want me ta help?"

"I've got a long list," Lithium said. "Of course, you're only getting it one designation at a time…"

Jazz waited for him to continue.

"Not right now, though. I wanted to talk to you again first. What you did with your friends was sloppy. If other mecha disappear like that, they'll start to see a pattern."

"Right," Jazz said. "Well, they ain't the only ones I got out. The second time I tried something different, and I guess ya didn't notice, even though ya knew ta watch for it. I get that we gotta be careful about this. And I like the idea of just giving me one designation at a time. That way if I get caught somehow, I can only tell them about the mecha who are already gone."

Lithium stared intensely at him for almost a breem, and then nodded. "All right," he said.

"All right?"

"I'm still not sure about you," Lithium said. "You don't seem to be taking this very seriously. You're overconfident, and you don't seem concerned about being caught."

"Ya think I don't know what I'm doing, cuz I act all casual about everything?" Jazz said.

Lithium frowned at him. He didn't need to say anything.

Jazz took in a deep vent and raised his visor so he could meet the other mech's gaze. "I am dead serious about this," he said quietly, trying to figure out exactly what this mech needed to hear. "I know I'm gonna be putting mecha's lives in danger. I know I'm probably gonna get caught one orn and offlined. I've been here long enough ta learn some of Quantum's secrets, and I know exactly how careful we gotta be if we want this ta work. I joke about it 'cuz I'm _terrified,_ and it helps me pretend I'm not."

Jazz could tell Lithium was buying it. Of course, there was a lot of truth to what he was saying. Jazz didn't like to take things seriously, and he _did_ understand the danger. The part about being scared was a lie, though. There weren't a lot of things that scared him. He wasn't even that scared of Branchbinder anymore.

"Very well," Lithium said, expression darkening. "One more thing, though."

"Yeah?"

"If you double-cross me, I will see you dead. I am not a fool, and I have more power than I think you realize. You might be clever, but you're new at this game, mechling."

"That's why I need your help," Jazz said. "Whenever ya're ready, just let me know who and I'll get them out."

"I'll do that," Lithium said.

Silence filled the room.

"Thank you," Lithium said. "Thank you for doing this."

"Nah," Jazz said. "It's something I need ta do. Thank _you_ though. It's gonna be easier with your help."

Lithium nodded and it felt like the conversation was over, so Jazz left and went back to his room. He stuck his tracker back in his faceplate, and lay down on his berth to try and get some recharge.

* * *

Lithium had been in Quantum for a very long time. He'd seen mecha come and go, watched regimes rise and fall. In the beginning, he had enjoyed it. Back then it had just been a small band of friends. They'd taken care of each other, fought for territory and credit, and kept to themselves.

Then Hegemony's predecessor's predecessor had changed things. He'd started making deals with the Council, started expanding to other cities. There'd been consequences. Other gangs had teamed up to try and stop them and the energon of Lithium's brothers had stained the streets of Polyhex in the ensuing war. It had hardened the survivors, and changed the culture of the gang. He and Hegemony had become allies, and they'd ruthlessly clawed their way to the top, lying and cheating and killing until Hegemony was in position to take command.

Somewhere along the way he'd lost his taste for it, even as his friend had grown more comfortable with it.

Hegemony was planning to retire soon, now that a suitable successor had turned up. Lithium had intended to go with him at that point. It would be an easy way out—an end to the violence. He could live off of his share of Quantum's riches for a hundred vorns or so, and then either find something else to do or just fade.

But here was a different way to leave—a new opportunity. He wasn't sure if that mechling could really pull it off, but he hadn't been able to get their first conversation out of his helm. If there was a chance—if there was even the _slightest_ chance…

He left headquarters at about the middle of the on-cycle. He was older than the trackers, and fortunately Hegemony trusted him enough that they hadn't given him one.

He needed to know if he could trust Jazz, but he couldn't be sure of that without some sort of risk. He hated asking this of anyone, but he couldn't see another option.

He stopped at a small apartment and pressed the entry request. After a few astroseconds, a mech opened the door.

"Lithium…" he said. "What's… everything all right, sir?"

"Yes," Lithium said. "Can I come in? We need to talk."

* * *

" _But you don't trust him?"_

" _No. I want to, but I can't be sure."_

Jazz leaned back and put his pedes up on the table in front of him, optics shuttered. The feeling was mutual. In fact, it was so mutual that Jazz had bugged Lithium, and was now listening in on his private conversation with a mech who—Jazz assumed—he was going to be asked to help.

" _You got my hopes up for an astrosecond, sir,"_ the other voice said. _"When you asked if I still wanted out."_

Jazz heard Lithium sigh. _"My thoughts are… if I ask him to help someone desert, then he'll be able to prove himself. I just need a way to know for sure that he doesn't have you captured again once you're gone."_

" _Right…"_

" _But that's not something I can force you to risk. If you're not willing, then—"_

" _Then you'll ask someone else?"_

Silence fell.

" _I get it, Lithium. I wouldn't just be doing this for me, would I? You need someone to test the integrity of the bridge. Are you going to follow me?"_

" _No,"_ Lithium said. _"My role may eventually end with me leaving Quantum, but hopefully not for a while. You aren't the only one who wants out, and I'm not crossing that bridge, so to speak, until I've made sure everyone else gets safely across."_

Fortunately, it seemed like Lithium wasn't going to betray him—at least he seemed to honestly want to get these mecha to safety. Jazz kept listening, though, as they wrapped their conversation up.

He'd keep listening. Lithium was lucky Jazz _wasn't_ planning to betray him. It would be such an easy way to catch traitors. But it would be wrong.

Jazz was done with making the wrong decision. As tempting as it was to trick Lithium, to prove he could outsmart this mech who'd been playing these games for hundreds of vorns, it wasn't worth it. Jazz could help mecha instead. He could free them.

* * *

Jazz came online when Hegemony commed him.

If it had been anyone else, he would have ignored it and gone back to recharging—the orn before had been a long one. He'd gone on a mission with Midnight's team, _and_ helped a mech fake his death and leave Quantum.

"Hey, mech," Jazz said.

"I need you to come meet me in my chamber," he said.

"Ok. Right now?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there in half a breem," Jazz said, getting up off his berth and stumbling to the door.

He was pretty sure Lithium trusted him at this point. They'd started slowly, but they were picking up the pace a little, and over the course of the last fifteen decaorns, they'd made it almost a third of the way through Lithium's list.

Jazz made sure his tracker was in place before leaving the room. He'd taken it out and put it back enough that his self-repairs hadn't tried to fix the hole. He'd probably have that forever now. He crossed the base, headed directly for the big dark room Hegemony and his mecha liked to lurk in. The last time something like this had happened, Hegemony had wanted him to go on an emergency mission with Branchbinder. _That_ hadn't been fun. Despite the fact it had been the plan all along, Branchbinder seemed to resent Jazz for taking his position.

Not that Branch had been demoted. He was still a recruiter, and one of Hegemony's best assassins.

Branchbinder was here this time too, to Jazz's dismay. The older mech glared at him, but Jazz ignored him and addressed Hegemony.

"Ya wanted me?"

"Yes," Hegemony did not sound happy. "You aren't doing your job."

Jazz's optics widened. "What?"

"Branchbinder?" Hegemony said.

The other mech stepped forward and Jazz glanced at Lithium, who was looking off to the side, frowning.

"Did you know the death rate's gone up a little," Branchbinder said.

"Uh… really?" Jazz said.

"Barely enough to be noticeable," Branchbinder crossed his arms. "Unless you're paying attention. Do you remember that watch list I gave you… back near the beginning?"

"Um… yeah," Jazz said. "It had like half of Quantum on it. Anyone who you thought even _might_ betray us. I don't look at it real often. Why?"

"Because there have been a good handful of mysterious deaths recently, and all of them have been mecha who were on that list."

Pit.

Jazz tried to look puzzled. "That's weird."

"Yeah," Branchbinder said. "It's weird. And you know what else is weird? I noticed this a while back and I was watching just in case someone else disappeared off the list, and someone did, last orn. Designation: Shellshock. He was on the list because he talked back to his team leader on multiple occasions, trying to convince the mech to show mercy. He died last orn in an explosion."

"I… I knew him, but I hadn't heard that." Jazz said. "But…"

"But I went to the site of the explosion," Branchbinder reached into subspace and pulled out a little chunk of metal. "And guess what I found?"

The tracker. Jazz was grateful, as usual, for the visor that hid his expression. "A… pebble?" he said, trying to sound confused.

Branchbinder beckoned him over, and then dropped it into his hand. Jazz lifted up the small piece of metal and squinted at it. It was hard to see in the room's dim light, but he wasn't going to raise his visor.

"I guess this doesn't look like a random pebble… it's all burned… is it mesh? But why is that significant? Ya'd find little bits of burned mesh anywhere someone had offlined in an explosion, wouldn't you?"

"Normally," Branchbinder said. "But this is the only one."

"Huh," Jazz said, then looked up sharply. "Pit… it's a tracker ain't it?"

"So you _do_ know about those?" Branchbinder said.

"Well, yeah. I kinda guessed, and then after Sideswipe and Sunstreaker—those twins, remember?—they took their trackers out when they deserted. Pit, this means he ain't dead—he got away."

"Just like your friends," Branchbinder said. "Who you couldn't seem to _find_ afterward."

Frag. Jazz needed to turn the attention away from himself. This couldn't be happening yet. They still had a lot of mecha to save.

"Maybe they told some other mecha before they ran," Jazz said, pretending to ignore Branchbinder's subtle accusation.

"Let's get to the point, shall we?" Hegemony said. "Mecha are somehow figuring out where their trackers are, cutting them out, and escaping. This isn't one isolated event anymore. And if word gets out about the trackers, then even more mecha will try running."

Jazz nodded.

"So I want you to figure out what's going on and _put a stop to it._ "

"I want to know how you managed to miss this," Branchbinder said. "Aren't you supposed to be some sort of genius?"

"Ya got a copy of that list?" Jazz said.

"Not here," Hegemony said. "You can work on solving the problem later. Branchbinder, since it's obvious Jazz wasn't as ready as we thought, I want you to work with him on this one."

Pit.

"Yes, Sir." Branchbinder said.

"Jazz?"

"Yes, Sir," Jazz echoed.

"Good. Now get out."

Branchbinder beckoned Jazz and he followed the other mech reluctantly out of the room and down the hall to his office.

Jazz feigned nonchalance as Branchbinder locked the door behind them, and then nimbly skipped out of the way as the other mech tried to grab his arm.

"Hey," he said. "Branch, what the frag?"

"I don't know what you think you're doing?"

"Yeah? Well I know what _you_ think I'm doing," Jazz said. "And ya're wrong. I ain't breaking mecha out of Quantum. How stupid do ya think I am? I'm shocked I didn't notice these mecha leaving though. Ya got a copy of that list I can see? I need ta figure out how they're related."

Branchbinder narrowed his optics. Then he relaxed a little, and pulled out a datapad.

Jazz stared. Had he just successfully bluffed Branchbinder?

Or was Branchbinder just trying to put him at ease?

Jazz waited while Branchbinder navigated to the right file, and then took the datapad from him and studied it thoughtfully for a breem.

"Mechling?" Branchbinder said.

"Yeah?" Jazz didn't look up.

Branchbinder reached for his arm again, and Jazz danced out of the way, then dropped the datapad as the other mech leaped at him.

He fought for half a breem, then gave up and let Branchbinder shove him face-first into the wall.

The mech held him there, twisting his arms behind his back painfully, and leaning so close Jazz could hear his engine. "I want you to remember something."

Jazz didn't speak.

"Maybe you don't work directly under me anymore, but I still outrank you, and I can still beat you in a fight."

He twisted Jazz's arm harder and Jazz gasped as he felt something in his elbow give a little.

"I can kill you if I want to, whether or not you're a traitor. So don't you ignore me when I'm trying to talk to you. Tell me why you didn't notice that those mecha were deserting. _Convince_ me you didn't help them."

Jazz gritted his denta.

"Tell me."

"I don't know," Jazz said. "I didn't have any of them on _my_ watch list… well, one or two of them, but most of them—aaahhh!"

Jazz's elbow snapped.

"Why?" Branchbinder demanded again.

"I don't think I was looking for them," Jazz gasped, trying to think past the pain. "I wasn't looking for them, most of them had never done anything against Quantum, they were just discontent."

Branchbinder let him go and Jazz leaned forward against the wall, optics shuttered. He didn't like leaving his back toward Branchbinder, but needed a moment to compose himself.

"And you didn't think that mecha who were discontent counted as suspects?"

"Well, I… I guess I figured most of them didn't care enough ta actually do anything. Frag it, Branch, _I_ was discontent. If I'd thought there was a way ta get out of this pit, I would have."

"But you didn't," Branchbinder said. " _You_ couldn't do it. So how are these mecha doing it?"

"That's a good question," Jazz said. He pushed away from the wall and glanced at the closed door. His arm hurt like pit, and he wanted to get out of here, but he doubted Branchbinder would let him. He'd just have to work on this problem with a broken elbow. At least that might give him an excuse for not thinking very clearly. "Someone…" he said. "Someone's gotta be helping them. Someone smart, someone high-up. Someone who knows about the trackers."

Branchbinder nodded.

"For all I know, it could be you."

The mech scoffed. "Then you don't know me very well."

"Maybe I don't," Jazz said, thinking. Maybe they could frame Branchbinder instead of Lithium and get rid of him.

But then again, Jazz didn't think Branchbinder would _ever_ put himself in danger—or even mildly inconvenience himself—to help someone else. He liked outsmarting mecha, and killing, and causing pain. Hegemony knew that. It would be hard to convince him that Branch had gone soft.

"Well, that gives us something to work with," Branchbinder said. "Why don't you come up with a list of mecha who might have done this, and I'll come up with a list too, and we'll see what designations overlap.

"We'll want ta keep an optic on anyone who's discontent too," Jazz said. "See if more of them disappear. If they keep disappearing at the same rate, we can assume the mech who's doing this probably doesn't know that we're onto him."

"If they speed up or slow down, we can narrow our suspect list. I like how you think. I taught you well."

"Yeah," Jazz said, walking back over to the desk, trying to hold his arm still. "Thanks."

Who else could Jazz add to the suspect list? Obviously, Lithium would have to be on there. "I don't know who knows about the trackers," Jazz said. "It ain't the sort of thing ya usually talk about."

"Well, I know," Branchbinder said. "We'll find out how good you are at guessing."

"Ok," Jazz took in a deep vent and let it out slowly. "Can I go back ta my own room now? I think I need ta re-attach my elbow."

Branchbinder smirked. "No, you're not getting away that easy. Sit down and help me figure this out. You're not leaving until we've got a solid list of suspects and a plan to find out which one of them is the traitor.

* * *

"Are we out of time?"

Jazz leaned casually against the shelf, checking around the corner again. "Pretty much."

His tracker was currently in his room. Taking it out during the middle of the on-cycle was dangerous, but it was the only time that Lithium had been able to get away.

"Great." The mech sighed. "What if we stopped, then tried again in a quarter of a vorn?"

"No good," Jazz said.

Silence fell. The small supply shop they were in was empty at the moment, except for them. It was a good place to meet, though. Lithium knew and trusted the owner

"Why not?"

"Because Branchbinder's working on it too. He'll find _something_ eventually. And if I get in his way, he'll know I'm involved. He already doesn't trust me."

Jazz's arm still ached. He and Branchbinder had stayed up late into the off-cycle trying to figure out who they should be watching. There were several mecha on that list who Jazz didn't want to get in trouble, such as Lilac.

"So what do we do?" Lithium said. "We—"

"I think we should get Resin's team out," Jazz said. "And maybe a couple other mecha too—anyone who's ready."

Lithium stared at him. "Are you… _insane?_ "

"Yeah," Jazz said. "I'm fragging crazy. But if we want ta do that all at once like we've been planning, we're gonna need ta do it before they put new security measures inta place."

"But they're watching," Lithium said. "Even if we—by some miracle—get Resin's team out safely, they'll know for certain that someone's doing this. They'll double their efforts."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "They will. Ready ta disappear, mech?"

Lithium froze for a moment, then looked down. "Oh."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "They look long enough for patterns and they'll find out it's gotta be either me or you. Ya do want ta get out of here, right? I know ya hate it here."

"I've been here so long… I knew this was part of the plan, but… I'm not sure what I'd do with myself."

Jazz smiled slightly. He could understand that. It must be worse for this mech, though, who'd been in Quantum many times longer than Jazz had been alive. "Ya'll figure something out."

Lithium looked troubled.

"Ya're a good mech."

"No. But thank you. And we should go."

"Resin's team," Jazz said. "Next orn. Twenty-two joors. I'll be out on a mission, so I'll have an alibi. It's not a perfect off-cycle for it, but it should work well enough. Can ya drop by the hold and pass her the instructions?"

"What instructions?"

Jazz pulled a datapad out of subspace and held it out.

"You've been planning this."

"Yep," Jazz said. "For a while. It's a good plan. Simple and straightforward. There ain't no need ta make it sneaky anymore. Resin and her team meet all together in the storage space under the hold, cut their trackers out, and cut their way through the floor into the tunnels beneath headquarters. Ya're gonna have ta disable the sensors and cameras in those tunnels, but I've put instructions for that in there too. Now, I stole some credit from your account for the groundbridge tickets. So long as they can get there before anyone notices they're gone, they'll be fine."

"And Branchbinder? You don't think he'll notice?"

"He'll be off-base too," Jazz said. "Because ya're gonna send him on a mission. Ya can do that, right?"

"I _can_ ," Lithium said. "But I don't, not very often. I don't like this."

"It's pure desperation," Jazz said.

"But it's not like me," Lithium said. "It's not the sort of thing I would do."

"Even if ya knew ya were running out of time?"

Lithium looked at him.

"Ok, ya're right," Jazz said. "Hmm… I wonder if there's another way ta get Branchbinder off of base."

"I don't like any of this. I don't like trying to get Resin out right now while they're watching us."

"Ok," Jazz said. "I'll let ya think about it, then. But the thing is we don't got much time anyway. So we can either get these mecha out now, or we can wait and maybe get one or two more out before we get caught."

Lithium took in a deep vent and let it out slowly. "All right. I'll think about it. I'll let you know by this off-cycle."

Jazz nodded.

"And you should get back before anyone notices you're gone."

"Will do," Jazz said. "See ya, mech. And thanks again, for helping me with this."

"You probably could have done it without me,"

"Yeah, but then I'd have needed ta frame someone," Jazz said, pushing away from the shelf and backing toward the store's entrance.

Lithium huffed. "I don't know why you can't take anything seriously."

"I don't know why you mechs gotta take _everything_ seriously. Ya'll get old and fade twice as fast that way." Jazz turned and walked out of the store, then transformed and drove back toward Quantum headquarters. He had to be especially careful sneaking in because if someone saw him, they could prove he'd messed with his tracker.

Of course, all they'd need to do to prove that was make him take his visor off.

He made it to his room and slipped the tracker in. It didn't hurt anymore, except once in a while when he was talking or laughing and the now rigid piece of faceplate bit into the more flexible metal around it.

He smirked at his reflection in the desk, lowered his visor, and climbed onto his berth. He had been pretending to recharge. Fortunately, it was easy to loop a camera of someone recharging, because they weren't moving. He'd set it so that the loop would stop after a certain amount of time. He still had about half a joor.

He might as well actually get some recharge, in that case.

He let himself shut down. It was the middle of the on-cycle, but his recharge schedule was all over the place. He caught a few joors here and there whenever he could.

He got a little more than usual, this time, but was woken just before the beginning of the off-cycle by a comm.

Jazz rolled over, waiting for his systems to come online before answering it.

" _You win,"_ Lithium said before Jazz could speak. _"I still don't like it, but I'll pass along your instructions."_

Jazz smirked up at the ceiling.

Next orn was going to be fun.


	14. Out of Time

Resin's team was non-combatant, for the most part. Resin ran the hold. She kept the mail running through, made deals, organized deliveries.

She didn't have to kill anyone—not directly, but that didn't mean her job was less guilt-inducing. Quantum did a lot of trading with unsavory sources. Stolen goods, drugs, slaves, and various other unpleasant things passed through her hands. She and a solid half of her team wanted out. Jazz had always wanted to get them out all at the same time. It would be too obvious if they disappeared one at a time, and faking their deaths was difficult because they didn't normally do anything dangerous.

He kept an optic on Branchbinder all orn. If anyone was going to ruin his plans, it would be Branchbinder. It wasn't particularly unusual for members of Resin's team to spend time together on the lowest level of headquarters. But too many of the mecha on Branchbinder's watch list were in the group who needed to escape, and if Branch saw them congregating it was all over.

But he hadn't needed to worry. Less than a joor before Jazz needed to leave with Midnight's team, Branchbinder went to his room and powered down for the off-cycle.

Everything was going _so_ perfectly that it was almost suspicious. But Jazz figured he'd take what luck he could get, and then just keep his optics open.

He left with his team. His processor wasn't in the game, but he forced himself to try and pay attention to what he was supposed to be doing. If he got himself and his team caught by the guards in the factory they were currently stealing from and they commed the enforcers and everyone got arrested, Jazz wouldn't be able to help Lithium leave.

They were almost finished when Midnight commed Jazz on a private frequency.

" _Mechling, Hegemony wants you back on base for some reason."_

Jazz hesitated. _"Why?"_

" _He didn't say, and I didn't ask. He wants you_ right now, _though, so you'd better go. Can you get out of here without help?"_

" _No problem,"_ Jazz said. He couldn't help worrying that something had gone wrong. But Lithium hadn't commed him to warn him of anything. He hadn't heard anything from anyone.

He sneaked out of the building, and then transformed and drove across the city as quickly as he could, trying to work off the anxiety of not knowing whether Resin's team had gotten out. It was probably all right. If something had gone wrong, Jazz would most likely have been contacted earlier. They'd been planning to leave about a joor before, so if everything was on schedule, then they were probably fine.

He reached headquarters and crossed it to get to Hegemony's throne room of an office.

They were waiting for him there—Hegemony, Branchbinder, Lithium. Jazz tried to read Lithium's expression as he approached them, but couldn't.

"Ya wanted me?"

"Yes," Hegemony said. "Found that traitor yet?"

"Mech, it's been two orns. We've got a couple of suspects, as Branchbinder could tell ya…"

"A little more than a joor ago, an entire _team_ disappeared," Hegemony said.

"W-what?" Jazz said.

"We found their trackers in a neat little circle in the basement."

"Who?" Jazz asked.

"Does it matter?"

"A little."

Hegemony glared at him, and Jazz figured he'd better shut up now.

"Someone has been helping my mecha desert," the leader of Quantum said. "We have a traitor, somewhere higher up. Preventing this sort of thing is _your_ job, Jazz."

"I know. I told ya I'll figure out who it is…"

"You should have figured it out decaorns ago. You should have _already_ stopped them. We can't cover this up. I have to send out teams to hunt them down."

Jazz took a deep vent, trying to force himself to look afraid. On the inside he was triumphant, though. It had worked. Resin and her team had gotten away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll catch them before anything like this happens again."

"You had better. Mechs."

Two guards came up on either side of Jazz.

"Hang on," Jazz said. "I can figure this out."

"I believe you," Hegemony said. "You have five orns, starting now."

Jazz looked down, wincing as the guards grabbed his arms. Well, they weren't going to get anyone else out in that time. Just Lithium, and then Jazz would have to wait a long time before he tried this again.

"Jazz?"

"Yes, sir."

"Or there will be consequences."

Jazz nodded.

"Put some dents in him," Hegemony said.

Jazz shuttered his optics as they threw him to the ground. Something collided with his side, then his helm. He curled up on the floor as they kicked him back and forth, but even as the pain built up from hit to hit, spreading across his entire frame, he couldn't help feeling triumphant.

* * *

He woke up in Lilac's office, feeling worn out, and aching all over. He stared up at the ceiling for a few breems. Then he realized…

"Oh, hey, mech, you online?"

Jazz sat up and gasped as his frame protested the movement.

"Whoa. Lie down," Lilac said. "You need some rest sweetspark." She turned and walked toward him with a thoughtful expression on her faceplate. Then she slammed him down onto the berth and leaned over him as he moaned.

"I heard about what happened with Resin and her team. They're going to be looking for a traitor," she said. "Aren't they? Someone who knows about the trackers?"

Jazz didn't move.

"Guess who's on the list of mecha who know about the trackers?"

"Uh… you?"

"Got that right," Lilac said. "And I'm a likely suspect, don't you think? Because medics are _soft,_ aren't they?"

"Not…" Jazz gasped. "Not… really."

She released him and he lay back on the berth, coughing.

"Not really?"

"Ya ain't a likely suspect. The way the trackers were removed was too sloppy ta be a medic. Ya'd have probably wanted ta take the trackers out yourself, because it's kinda tricky, and ya'd have better tools."

She studied him for an astrosecond, then nodded. "Glad you feel that way," she walked away, across the room. "I scanned you. No internal injuries. You're all good."

She'd scanned him. She must know he'd cut his tracker out.

And he was willing to bet she wouldn't say anything,

Relieved, he sat up again, slowly enough this time that it didn't make him dizzy.

"You owe me a lot," Lilac said.

"I'll pay it off," Jazz said. "Am I good ta go?"

She nodded. "You've still got some dents, but nothing that won't heal on its own. You know, normally, I don't give a frag, but you, mechling, need to take better care of yourself. I thought you'd stop getting yourself injured once you weren't Branchbinder's lackey anymore."

"Hey, I'm making you rich, femme," Jazz said.

Lilac snorted. "Get out."

Jazz grinned at her and left her office.

* * *

Lithium was sitting at his desk, so Jazz sat on the edge of the berth instead. "Ya wanted ta talk ta me in person?"

"Yes," Lithium said, scrolling down on the datapad he was reading.

"According ta Hegemony, I've got four more orns, so we need ta move quick. It might be better if ya don't know _exactly_ when I'm gonna—"

"It won't work," Lithium shut off the datapad and turned to look at Jazz coldly.

"What?"

"Your plan," Lithium said. "Even if you have evidence, I can wiggle out of it. If I slip up and make a stupid mistake, Hegemony will be suspicious. And I still can't believe I let you talk me into getting Resin's entire team out at once, while everyone was on alert. That should never have worked."

Jazz wasn't sure what to say. "Mech…"

"No," Lithium said. "This isn't _like_ me. Hegemony's known me for hundreds of vorns, and I wouldn't be doing these things. Mecha change, surely, and maybe he won't notice, but… I don't think the plan you currently have for me will work."

"When have my plans not worked?" Jazz asked. "Name one time."

"That's not the point,"

"Look, ya can't get cold pedes about this. Hegemony won't be happy with me if I can't find someone in time, but I doubt he'll offline me, so we can push it back a little, but…"

"We need to do something different," Lithium said. "All of this—breaking mecha out, moving quickly, taking risks—if I was of a disposition to do these things, why haven't I done any of it in the past? Why wait until now? No… no, Jazz, framing me won't work."

"Then what are we gonna do?"

"I can't leave Quantum," Lithium said again. "Maybe… maybe I _want_ to, but there's nowhere for me to go, nothing for me to do. I've been here too long. _You_ should leave instead."

Jazz stared at him.

"You've never really been loyal. Branchbinder knows it, Hegemony knows it. It would be easy for them to believe that you were working on your own. And it will be easier for you to escape."

Jazz looked down. "But… there are more mecha…"

"You'd get caught eventually," Lithium said. "And you'd help Quantum more than you'd harm it. You don't see all the consequences of the things Hegemony asks you to do. You're just giving him more power."

"The point isn't ta take down Quantum," Jazz said. "That job's too big for just one mech. I'm just trying ta help my friends."

"Well, good mecha are getting hurt because of it. We steal, lie, extort, kill… and you're making it possible for us to get away with even more than we used to. You need to leave."

"But I…" Jazz couldn't leave.

"But you what?" Lithium said.

Jazz didn't know what he would do. He didn't have anywhere to go. No prospect of a job, no friends who he could stay with.

"Do you _like_ it here?" Lithium said.

Jazz didn't answer, grateful for the visor that would hide the confession on his faceplate.

Apparently his silence was enough. "You do, don't you?" Lithium said. "Primus, mechling… this is just a _game_ to you, isn't it? And you don't want to stop playing it. Not when you're winning."

"It ain't just a game…"

"But what you don't understand," Lithium said. "Is that you're _not_ winning. You can't win. In this game everyone who plays loses something. The only way to avoid that is to leave before it's too late."

"If ya don't want ta leave," Jazz said quietly, "I'll go instead… but there are still mecha on your list. And there are mecha who haven't joined Quantum yet who will need a way out. I can't give them that chance if I leave. Ya think this is about me, but it ain't. If it was just me, I'd have left that off-cycle after I broke those mecha from Midnight's team out of jail."

Lithium shook his helm.

"Look, I can't help ya go without your cooperation. So the decision's yours. But if ya force me ta leave instead, then those mecha won't have a way out." Jazz stood. "Let me know when ya've made up your processor."

He slipped out of the room, and went back to his own room to put his tracker in. Maybe he _was_ just here for the game. It was a thrilling one—sneaking mecha out from under Hegemony's olfactory sensor.

Did helping these mecha—these mecha who _had_ chosen this life at some point after all—really justify all of the other things Jazz did? All the hacking and stealing and killing.

Probably not.

Jazz couldn't claim the moral high ground on this issue. But he had friends here, and plenty to do, and he was afraid to give that up. He took in a deep vent and let it out slowly.

He couldn't think about this. He needed to go to the lounge and get some high grade or something.

Branchbinder sent him an external comm.

Jazz hesitated, then answered. "What's up, mech?" he said.

" _I've got some good news,"_ Branchbinder said.

"Oh, really?"

" _Yeah,"_ Branchbinder said. _"They caught Resin and some of her team. Hegemony's having them brought back here for questioning. He'll probably invite you to that party too, if you want to come."_

Pit…

" _Jazz?"_ Branchbinder said, and Jazz could hear his smirk. _"You ok?"_

"Yeah," Jazz said. "It's just… I was so close ta finding the traitor. I even had a guess. We'll have ta see if I was right or not. How long until they get here?"

" _Give it fifteen breems or so."_

"Ok. See ya then." Jazz cut the comm.

They'd been caught.

He stared at the wall, trying to process it.

He should comm. Lithium…

Well, Lithium would probably know soon whether or not Jazz told him. He couldn't believe this. He'd been careful—he'd given them instructions that should have kept them safe. Where had he gone wrong?

Pit, they'd been caught. They were going to die.

Hegemony would find out that Jazz and Lithium had been working together. They would both have to leave.

And Resin…

No. Jazz had to find a way to get her out. He could do it. So long as they held out long enough that Hegemony got bored and threw them in the dungeon, Jazz could break them out. It would mean leaving Quantum.

But maybe Lithium was right.

In fifteen breems, Jazz got up and headed for Hegemony's big, dark throne room. The guards let him past and he went to stand by the wall with Branchbinder.

"Jazz," Hegemony said. "I don't remember asking for you."

"Branch let me know," Jazz said. "Sorry if I'm intruding. I'll go if ya want."

"No, you can stay here," Hegemony said. "You have good timing. They're about to reach headquarters."

Lithium commed him. _"Don't do anything rash."_

" _If we have a chance, we should try ta get them free again. Hegemony'll stick them in the dungeon and I can break them out."_

" _No."_

" _I can do it, mech."_

The doors opened and a group of guards came in, flanking several mecha from Resin's team. Jazz counted seven of them. He wondered if the others had gotten away, or if they'd died. It definitely looked like the ones who'd been captured had been in a fight. One of the mechs was missing an arm and they were all scuffed and scratched. Most of them—except for the one-armed mech—were wearing stasis cuffs. Jazz might be able to comm. him and discuss a plan.

And he didn't even have to convince Lithium, not if Jazz was going to leave anyway.

" _This is my fault. It was my idea. I'm gonna get them out."_

" _No,"_ Lithium said again.

"Welcome back," Hegemony said with a quiet coldness that sent shivers up Jazz's spinal struts. "Did you have a nice vacation, Resin?"

One of the guards shoved her forward.

She stumbled but kept her pedes, and looked up at Hegemony with a sort of terrified defiance.

She said nothing.

"Who helped you escape?" Hegemony asked.

"No one."

Hegemony leaned forward. "Don't lie to me."

A couple of Hegemony's guards stepped forward and grabbed the one-armed mech. They shoved him to the ground and one of them pulled out an energon prod.

"You have one more chance to answer my question and earn yourself and your friends a merciful death. Who helped you leave Quantum? Who told you about the trackers?"

"Who told us the trackers were in the logos?" Resin asked. "It really wasn't that hard to figure out. No one helped us. We got ourselves out."

The energon prod crackled to life, and the guard rammed it right into the mech's empty arm socket. He screamed as lightning danced across his frame.

Resin flinched, and Jazz had to try hard not do the same.

The guard pulled the energon prod away, and the mech stopped screaming. He lay sprawled on the ground, shaking so hard you could hear the pieces of his armor knocking together.

Jazz shuttered his optics.

"You aren't going to convince me," Hegemony said. "If it was an isolated event, maybe. But mecha have been disappearing for quite some time."

"Well, if someone's been helping other mecha escape, I don't know about it," Resin said, voice trembling.

The mech screamed again.

" _Not you,"_ Lithium said over the comm. _"I apologize for my accusations earlier. I will help Resin and the others escape."_

Jazz's optics flew open. _"What?"_

" _I said I'll help Resin and the others escape,"_ Lithium said. _"And you should stay here. I don't need your help to convince them I'm the traitor."_

" _What are ya gonna do?"_

" _Well, first I've got to talk him out of killing them right now, so I'll need you to be quiet for a few breems."_

Jazz shuttered his optics again. Hegemony demanded to know who'd helped them get out, and Resin insisted more and more desperately that no one had, while they tortured her mecha behind her.

But it only went on for ten breems before Hegemony sighed and sat back in his chair. "Well, this is disappointing. I was hoping you could help me catch a traitor, but I'm not in the mood for your pathetic whining. Put them in the dungeon."

Jazz vented a silent sigh of relief as they were dragged away. He commed Lithium, but the other mech didn't answer.

"Everyone out," Hegemony said. "I need to think."

Jazz followed Branchbinder out the door. The assassin hurried to catch up with the guards who were taking Resin's team to the dungeon. Jazz went the other way, to the lounge. He sat in his usual spot, with his pedes up on a table, listening to the music and the crowd as he worked on his datapad. He commed Lithium a couple more times before the mech answered.

" _I swear, if you comm. me one more time…"_

" _Sorry,"_ Jazz said. _"But I needed ta know what ya're gonna do."_

" _No, I don't think I'll tell you."_ Lithium said. _"I'm going to get them out, I promise. And I want you to promise me something in return."_

" _What?"_

" _I want you to bring Quantum down. Destroy it. You said it wasn't a one mech job, and you're right. You'll probably get yourself offlined, but if anyone can do it, you can."_

Jazz looked up from his datapad.

" _Jazz?"_

" _I…"_

" _I want you to promise me."_

" _Ok,"_ Jazz said. _"I promise. I'll try… but Lith, what about all that ya said about Hegemony knowing ya wouldn't do anything reckless?"_

" _Trying to frame me for doing something stupid is different than if they actually_ see _me do something stupid. Hegemony might still be a little suspicious for a while. Which means you won't be able to get anyone else out. But if you're careful, you can start up again in a vorn or so."_

Someone sat down across from him. Jazz looked back down at his datapad.

" _Ya planning on getting caught?"_

" _No,"_ Lithium said lightly.

"Hey," the mech sitting across from Jazz said.

Jazz looked up again. Blackangle.

"Oh, hey mech," he said. "I'm in the middle of a comm. right now, can ya give me a breem?"

Blackangle nodded.

" _Are ya sure about this?"_ Jazz asked. _"Look… what I said before, it was a lie. I really do think of this as a great big game."_

" _What about the other part? The part about helping mecha leave. Was that true?"_

Jazz hesitated.

" _Jazz?"_

" _It was true,"_ Jazz said. _"But it's… it ain't enough."_

" _If you destroy Quantum, then you'll save_ all _of them. All of the mecha who might have joined, who might have wanted a way out in the future. They won't need a way out because there won't_ be _a_ _Quantum in the first place._ _"_

Jazz shuttered his optics.

" _Yes,"_ Lithium said. _"I'm sure about this. Good luck, little turbo-pup."_

He cut the comm.

Jazz put his datapad away and swung his pedes down from the table.

Blackangle was still sitting across from him, waiting expectantly. He had that quiet half-smile on his faceplate that meant he was about to do something he wasn't supposed to.

Jazz really didn't feel like dealing with him at the moment.

But Blackangle spoke before Jazz could think up an excuse to leave.

"I don't know if you've heard the rumors."

Jazz opened his lip plates to say he had to report to Midnight's office for something, but stopped. "Rumors?"

"Yeah," Blackangle's smile deepened a little and he leaned closer. "Rumors that there's going to be a big change soon."

Jazz tilted his helm to the side. "Mech, ya know Hegemony's aware of what ya're doing. Gathering a following, joining forces with other team leaders. Frag it, Blackie, we've only been here a vorn, ya ought ta take it a little slower."

Blackangle sighed. "Why take it slower if I don't have to? I know Hegemony's on to me. But he can't do anything to stop me."

Jazz really didn't want to deal with this at the moment. "Ok," he said. "So what do ya want from me?"

"Slag, you're _real_ friendly this orn."

"Sorry," Jazz said, forcing himself to relax a little. "Just stressed."

"I know you, Jazz," Blackangle said. "We've been friends for vorns—or close enough to friends. I know I want you on my team. I've always needed you on my side. You got us out of so much scrap back in secondary school. Remember that?"

"Yeah," Jazz smiled a little. "That was fun."

"I don't trust Feedback or Lithium," Blackangle said. "Not really. They're too used to the way things are done—the way Hegemony does everything. I don't think they'll like this big change that's coming."

Jazz frowned.

"I'm going to need someone I can trust—someone I can count on—watching my back."

"Ah." Jazz leaned back in his chair. "Right. I get it."

"Well?" Blackangle said.

He wanted Jazz to be his second in command when he took over. He probably wanted Jazz to _help_ him take over. Jazz looked into his old friend's optics. "I'll… need ta think about that."

"Well, give me an answer soon, ok, mech?" Blackangle stood and walked away, leaving Jazz alone at the table again, with far too much to think about.

* * *

He couldn't recharge, so he sat awake in his room, watching the cameras, waiting for something to happen. Lithium had said he'd get Resin and her team out. Jazz wanted to watch. He'd pieced together what the mech's plan was over the course of the orn. It had taken some tricky hacking, and asking the right mecha the right questions, but in the end, he'd figured it out. Lithium had advised Hegemony to set a trap for the traitor. The plan was to put them in the dungeon and tempt the traitor to try and rescue them. Of course, Lithium had been in charge of setting up the trap.

Joors ticked by, until the very middle of the off-cycle. Then the cameras in the dungeon flickered and Jazz studied them, looking for signs that the feed had been looped.

It was hard to tell, but after about a breem, he saw a group of shadowy figures walking down one of the basement's dark hallways, headed for the nearest exit. One of them was definitely missing an arm, and Jazz thought he recognized Lithium's shape leading them, followed closely by Resin's.

He followed them on the cameras, all the way to the doors and out of headquarters.

They made it.

Jazz sat up on his berth, thinking.

Lithium had made him promise to take Quantum down. That prospect terrified him, thrilled, him, and saddened him all at the same time. He felt like he belonged here. He didn't really fit in—he had never _really_ fit in anywhere—but Quantum was his home. He didn't want to destroy it. But he _should_ destroy it, and at this point he was starting to think that he _could._ He could take Blackangle up on his offer and help him overthrow Hegemony. He would have access to everything. No one hovering over him, no one telling him what to do. He would outrank everyone who'd been holding him back so far.

He could find a way to bring the entire society crashing down.

It would be spectacular. He saw it all in his helm as he sat on his berth, staring at the camera feeds on his datapad.

And then he saw something else.

Another shadowy figure leaving Quantum headquarters, slipping out the same door that Lithium and the others had gone through.

Pit.

Jazz commed Lithium.

And waited.

"Come on," he muttered. "Don't do this, mech. Come on…"

Lithium answered. _"What is it?"_

" _Mech, I just saw Branchbinder leaving base. He might be following you."_

Silence.

" _Lithium."_

" _I told you to stay out of it,"_ Lithium said. _"Please don't tell me you've left headquarters."_

" _I haven't,"_ Jazz said.

" _Good. Stay where you are."_

" _Ya don't even sound surprised."_

" _Look,"_ Lithium said. _"I figured they'd probably put another tracker on Resin. She and her team were unconscious for a while before they brought them back to Polyhex, so it was always likely. We didn't have time to try and find it, but I know someone who can. Resin just needs a little time to get to him."_

" _But Branch is coming for ya now."_

" _Yes,"_ Lithium said. _"I have a plan, Jazz. I_ did _prepare for this."_

Jazz felt cold. _"Ya're gonna let him catch ya. Ya're gonna distract him so the others can get away. If he sees ya then they'll know for sure ya were the traitor."_

Lithium hesitated a little too long. _"That's ridiculous. I'm not_ you, _Jazz."_

Jazz shuttered his optics. _"Ok… be careful mech."_

" _I will,"_ Lithium said. _"Get some recharge. You've got a lot of work ahead of you."_

Lithium cut the comm.

Jazz sat up.

It was a lie. They were all going to offline. Lithium was clearing Jazz's name, so Jazz could stay behind and destroy Quantum. They were making the sacrifice for him, and for what he could do.

Branchbinder was going to catch up to them and kill them. He might drag one or two of them back, but once they knew who the traitor was, there was no reason to keep the others alive.

Jazz retracted his visor and pulled his tracker out. He got up and set it on his desk, then left headquarters.


	15. Consequence

Polyhex 4 was dark in the off-cycle, lit from beneath. Jazz had access to the tracker system, so he knew exactly where Branchbinder was. He sped down the street, racing to catch up to the assassin before Branchbinder caught up to Lithium.

He caught a glimpse of the mech ahead of him and slowed down, swerving into an alleyway and transforming, since the other mech was in root mode as well. He needed to sneak up on Branchbinder, or find a good place to ambush him.

He glanced around the corner again and his quarry was gone.

Frowning, Jazz started walking down the narrow alley where he'd last seen Branchbinder. If he went for a few breems and didn't see anything, he'd check the tracker again.

He'd made it halfway down the narrow alley when something hit him from behind. He almost fell, but caught himself and spun to look back the way he'd come. Pain blossomed from the back of his shoulder, and at end of the alleyway, two glowing optics stared at him.

Another knife came flying at him and he dodged and turned to run, but he was right in the middle of the alley, and the other mech closed the distance before he made it out.

He tried again to fend Branchbinder off. He could feel energon flowing down his back from where the first knife had hit him. Branchbinder shoved him into the wall and he gasped as the impact drove the knife further into his shoulder.

"Well," he said. "Fancy meeting you out here. What the pit do you think you're doing?"

"I'm… I'm trying ta help ya." Jazz lied. "I noticed Resin escaped and I thought ya might want some company when ya went ta recapture them."

"Huh," Branchbinder said. "Guess what?" He pushed Jazz against the wall even harder.

"What?" Jazz said through gritted denta.

"I don't believe you. Raise your visor and look me in the optics and say it again."

Jazz took in a deep vent. "I swear, Branch…"

Branchbinder pulled out another, longer blade out of subspace. Jazz tried to push away, but the other mech rammed it through his arm and into the wall behind him, pinning him there.

"I said," Branchbinder leaned in close. "Raise that visor. Go on."

Jazz shook his helm, shaking with the effort of not crying out. Every tiny motion sent a spike of agony up his arm.

"I'll kill you," Branchbinder said, backing up a little and pulling out yet another knife. "No one will ever even know. You'll just be another disappearance. Hegemony will be so upset that his favorite little lacky ran off."

He leaned forward again, setting the tip of his blade on Jazz's visor. "Now, raise the visor or I'll break it."

Jazz raised his visor so Branchbinder could see that he'd cut his tracker out.

Branchbinder smirked. "Ha. So it _was_ you, wasn't it?"

Jazz smirked back at him. "Yep. Ya caught me. Probably better drag me back ta Hegemony so they can question me."

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Branchbinder slammed Jazz back into the wall. "You're not leaving this alley."

Jazz cried out and kicked him away.

Branchbinder stumbled, but stayed on his pedes. "At least, not until you're dead."

Jazz reached up and tried to yank the knife out of the wall. The hilt was slick with energon, and it was wedged deep into the metal surface.

Well, frag that then.

Branchbinder came at him again, and Jazz tore himself free, screaming as the knife ripped through the mesh of his arm. Branchbinder's blow missed his spark chamber, but the knife still took him in the side. He pulled out a few knives of his own, and stabbed one into his attacker's arm.

They broke apart and backed away from each other. Jazz tore the knife from his side, feeling dizzy. This was not going well at all.

"Pathetic," Branchbinder said, and attacked again. Jazz made the mistake of blocking with his weak arm and he ended up on the ground with Branchbinder on top of him. But he shoved the other mech off and got up before Branchbinder managed to do any more damage.

Branchbinder charged and this time Jazz deflected, and then knocked a knife out of one of his attacker's hands. Every movement in the upper half of Jazz's frame was agony, and sent warnings to his processor about damaged systems, but he ignored that, trying to focus on the fight, on blocking and dodging and striking.

After half a breem, Branchbinder stopped and backed away to study him coldly. Jazz felt weak—the knife in his side must have pierced some important energon lines because it was practically gushing fluids. He shouldn't have pulled it out—all the other mech had to do now was wait for him to collapse.

"You really thought you could fight me? You thought you'd come out here and stop me from chasing Lithium down. Mechling, I taught you everything you know."

Jazz threw himself at his attacker, growling. If he didn't win this fight, he was going to die. Branchbinder dodged out of the way, or tried to, but Jazz anticipated him and followed, pushing his opponent back. The older mech went on the defensive and Jazz didn't let up. He was running out of time. The longer he fought the more energon he lost.

He surrendered to the fight, to the back and forth, to the sound of metal on metal and desperation, letting his instincts take over. The pain didn't matter, the things Branchbinder had done to him in the past didn't matter. What mattered was that Jazz won, that he survived this. Branchbinder had been fighting for decavorns, but Jazz didn't needed to be better than him, just good enough to get in a lucky hit.

Bullies weren't used to fighting losing battles.

Branchbinder tried to disengage, but Jazz pressed forward. The older mech danced out of his way and tried to slam him into the alley wall. Jazz anticipated it, but let the mech grab him, then jumped and kicked off of the wall, sending both of them to the ground.

Jazz landed on top and buried a knife in Branchbinder's chest, up to the hilt.

Branchbinder stared at him with wide, shocked optics.

"Sorry, mech," Jazz said with a sad smile. "But ya did teach me everything I know." He pulled out another knife and tried to stab it into Branchbinder's spark chamber, but the mech caught his hand and pushed. The broken, sharp-edged bits in Jazz's shoulder ground together as he was forced to push down harder.

He could barely use his other hand, but he pulled his last knife from subspace. Branchbinder moved one of his hands to catch Jazz's other one, then shoved Jazz off of him. Jazz tried to get up, but Branchbinder pinned him down, kneeling on his bad arm.

Jazz shuttered his optics and gripped his knife in his good hand. He only had one more chance.

He felt Branchbinder shift and knew the mech was going to stab him. He waited until the last moment, then twisted so the other mech's knife wouldn't go into his spark chamber, and brought up his last blade to stab Branchbinder in the side of the helm. Branchbinder screamed and Jazz shoved him off and dragged himself to his pedes.

He picked up a knife from the ground, then waited as Branchbinder thrashed on the ground, until he went limp. Then Jazz stabbed it into his spark chamber.

He heard something down at the other end of the alley, and light flooded the narrow space.

"Polyhex enforcement!" a voice boomed. "Stop where you are."

Pit.

Jazz ran and transformed as soon as he was out of the alley. The transformation did _not_ feel good, but fortunately it worked, and Jazz sped off into the darkness. They'd gotten a good look at him, unfortunately.

He drove back toward headquarters, but his processor started to shut down so he stopped in a silent alleyway and transformed back into root mode. He gave himself ten astroseconds to rest, knowing that every moment was precious. Then he pulled a cube of energon out of subspace and forced himself to drink it. His self-repair systems had completely shut down his damaged arm, but his side was still leaking, so he spent a few breems trying to tie off some of the severed energon lines.

Once he'd done what he could for himelf, he'd go to Lilac and ask her to patch him up. He should probably stop by his room first to get his tracker.

Explaining how he'd ended up half dead without leaving his room might be a challenge. But if Lilac did a good enough job, no one would ever know.

He finished with his side wound and dragged himself to his pedes. He felt a little more stable now that he'd replenished his energon.

Transforming had _hurt,_ and his arm was barely attached to his frame anymore, so he didn't want to risk switching to vehicle mode again. Instead he walked across the dark city. A few mecha saw him. Some shot frightened looks in his direction, and one or two came and asked if he needed help. He insisted he was fine.

He stopped just outside of Quantum territory.

His tracker was in his room. No one would even be looking for him until next on-cycle.

He didn't have to go back.

He could team up with Blackangle and help his former friend overthrow Hegemony.

He could make good on his promise to Lithium.

But Lithium didn't own him, nor did Jazz owe the older mech anything.

And Blackangle…

Blackangle wasn't his friend anymore.

He could bring down Quantum—destroy it.

Or maybe if he went back, Hegemony would figure everything out and have him killed.

Did it matter?

Maybe Lithium had been right earlier, when he'd told Jazz to leave.

Maybe it was time to stop playing the game.

* * *

Jazz recharged for the rest of that off-cycle in a little alley in Polyhex 8, a sector of the city far enough from Quantum headquarters that he wasn't worried about them finding him.

He woke—joors later, according to his chronometer—to debilitating pain all over. He didn't even try to sit up for several breems. He remembered what had happened the off-cycle before, remembered leaving his tracker in his room so he could go stop Branchbinder from catching up with Lithium, remembered the fight, remembered choosing to leave Quantum for good.

He needed a medic.

He forced himself to a sitting position and reached into subspace for a cube of energon and a vial of one of his favorite painkillers.

He had to be careful. You could get in trouble for having drugs like this out in the real world. But he'd be fine. He needed to find a medic who wouldn't ask questions anyway.

When he was feeling a little better, he emptied his subspace to take stock of what he had. Enough energon for four orns—or probably just three, in his condition—and a decent collection of weapons and gadgets. He didn't have much credit, and what he _did_ have would need to be transferred to a new account quickly before someone in Quantum thought to empty it.

Or maybe he could just sell his datapad. It was a nice, expensive one, and he wasn't going to need it anymore.

He still wouldn't be able to survive for more than a couple of decaorns without another source of credit.

He hadn't thought this through very well.

He'd gotten pretty good at making fake identification. He could get himself a job, probably. He'd want to move around a lot for the first little while, in case they caught up with him. Hegemony would _definitely_ be looking for him.

But at least they couldn't send Branchbinder after him.

Jazz packed everything up and got to his pedes. He'd make himself some fake IDs, then try to trade his datapad for some medical attention.

He'd take it to that point, and then figure things out from there.

By the next on-cycle, he was repaired and feeling much better.

But he had no idea what to do with himself. He wandered the streets for a while as the sun moved in its wide arc across the sky, following the exact path it did each orn, until it sank behind the horizon again.

Starved for company and feeling oddly cold in the shadows that he was usually comfortable in, Jazz sought the light and noise and Cybertronian company of an energon bar. There he found quick friends and cheap high grade and he didn't feel quite so alone.

And for the third time in a row, he spent the off-cycle in an alley.

The next orn, he left the sector. He could mostly avoid places where Quantum had influence or spies, but it was inevitable that someone would see him eventually and he _knew_ they'd be looking for him. He knew _far_ too much. They'd send every assassin they had after him.

The orn after that, he left Polyhex and went to the nearby city-state of Tagan Heights. It was crowded and dirty and gloomy. It wasn't quite as far north as Polyhex, so the sun rose a little higher, above the horizon, but the smog in the atmosphere made it even darker.

The bars were the same, though. They were pretty much the same everywhere.

Jazz got a tiny apartment and a job in a factory, but he quit after less than a decaorn, and got kicked out of the apartment after failing to make his second payment.

Quantum caught up to him, and he offlined all the mecha they had sent after him and disappeared again, moving to an outer sector of Iacon. Again, he found himself a roof and a job, though he had to steal credit to make the initial payment for the apartment.

That job lasted an even shorter time than the first one, and he had a hard time getting to know his neighbors. They seemed like decent mecha, but they were wary of him. They probably didn't want to associate with a mech who never showed his optics, and who came home late almost every off-cycle, overenergized.

He didn't blame them.

But he did disappear again within four decaorns.

And that was how it happened for a while, before he completely gave up on trying to keep a job. He had no problem _doing_ the work, but it was just so pointless.

What had he accomplished? He had nothing to show for all that he'd done, nothing to justify the energon on his hands. The only thing he could do about it was keep distracting himself, and menial, manual labor was not distracting enough.

He tried for a few jobs that fit his skill set a little better but it was hard because reputable organizations did extensive background checks, and mecha who didn't care about your background weren't the sort of mecha he wanted to work for.

He could probably fake his way in somewhere, but it was hard to build up the motivation.

After he ran out of credit, he either had to steal or beg, and he was only good at one of the two. He stayed in larger cities and roamed the dark streets. He made a sick sort of game of hunting down muggers and drug dealers and robbing them—sometimes killing them if they fought back. He hunted the hunters, but it wasn't even vigilante justice because he kept the spoils for himself.

One time he almost got arrested. A couple of enforcers in Nova Cronum cornered him. They probably weren't arresting him for anything more than loitering and looking suspicious but he couldn't let them take him and find out who he really was.

So he killed them.

A while later, he ran into one of the mecha he'd helped escape. She was still at the first job she'd found, and she was happy to welcome him into her home for the evening.

As they chatted, Jazz was torn between feeling happy and guilty. She told him about how much better her life was now, and thanked him again and again. He made up some lies about what he'd been up to lately, and that was rough, but it was still the best conversation he'd had for quartexes.

Possibly because of that he didn't feel like going to an energon bar that off-cycle after he left. He wandered instead, thinking. Maybe he _had_ accomplished something. He surely hadn't done as much good as he had bad, but maybe some mecha had benefited what he'd been doing in Quantum.

He went looking for them, determined to track them all down and check on them.

It wasn't too long before he discovered that that femme he'd run into was the exception, not the rule. A few of them were happy, living well, and better off. But the large majority of them were homeless, unemployed, in jail, part of other gangs, or offline. And there were some he couldn't even find.

So overall, he really hadn't done much to help anyone. And what was he doing now? Still on the run, still killing, still stealing.

Maybe it would have been better if he'd stayed in Quantum.

Maybe it would be better if he'd never been sparked.

* * *

Jazz walked into the room full of warmth and talking and laughing. There'd been clouds outside—there would probably be some acid rain, so he would want to be inside for the next several joors.

He got some high-grade and found a friendly-looking group of mecha to join.

He made new friends almost every orn and then never saw them again. He had thousands of designations in his processor and there were thousands more he was sure he'd forgotten—high grade would do that.

But it was better than being alone. Anything was better than being alone.

The first joor or so, he chatted and joked and felt like something other than a monster.

And then something across the room caught his attention. He stopped mid-sentence to stare for a moment, then shuttered his optics and finished what he'd been saying.

"What is it?" the mech he'd been talking to asked.

"I just… sorry, mech, I gotta go talk to an old friend. Good ta meet ya, though."

"You too," the mech said.

Jazz got some more high-grade and wandered over to a table where a mech was chatting animatedly with a couple of femmes.

"Hey, mechs," Jazz said lightly once he reached their table. "This seat taken?"

They hesitated for a moment, but then the mech shrugged. "Nope. Go ahead.'

They continued their conversation, and Jazz quickly inserted himself into it, forcing himself to be casual and friendly.

Soon all four of them were talking and laughing together. The other mech had as much of a talent for conversation as Jazz did and he attracted another femme in the next few breems. As the off-cycle wore on, though, Jazz noticed him looking over his shoulder more and more frequently.

Eventually, he got up. "Well, it's been fun," he said. "I should get going, though."

"Before your sparkmate turns up looking for you?" one of the femmes said with a smirk.

The mech laughed and shook his helm. "She thinks I'll be at work until about now," he said. "She wouldn't come here anyway. Well, see you all."

He got up and left the table.

Jazz watched him go. Two of the femmes got up and left when the mech did, and the other one followed within half a breem, probably realizing Jazz didn't want to talk to her.

He needed more high grade. But before he had a chance to get up, the mech came back and sat across from him with a sigh.

"Raining like pit out there," he said.

Jazz nodded, spark pulsing heavily, unsure how to feel.

"What'd you say your designation was, mech?"

He almost told him. But… "Shadow,"

The mech nodded. "You from Polyhex 17?"

"Yeah."

"Thought so, given the accent."

"Ya been there before?"

"Yeah," the mech said. "Lived there on and off for a few vorns. I'm Volks."

"That femme mentioned ya have a sparkmate."

"Yep," the mech said, then scowled. "She's a glitch sometimes, though."

"Ya... lived anywhere else besides Polyhex?"

"All over the place," Volks said. "I can't seem to stick around for more than a few vorns anywhere. Not my fault—I'm just a restless spark."

"Ya get bonded in all of those places?" Jazz asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Volks blinked, then narrowed his optics suspiciously.

"Sorry," Jazz said quickly. "Not ta accuse ya of anything, or assume… it's just ya seemed pretty friendly with those femmes a couple of breems ago. No judgment…"

Volks sighed and leaned back. "Honestly… yeah, I've been bonded a few times. You?"

"Never," Jazz said. "But… I _have_ moved around a lot."

"Yeah?" the mech said. "A fellow wanderer, then. I'm not surprised, you seem like it. It's kind of a lonely life, but things get so boring after a while and everymech expects too much of you. And then you know it's time to move on and find someplace else and someone else."

Jazz shuttered his optics.

"I mean, sure I think about settling down sometimes, but first I'd have to find a femme who's more than just a pretty faceplate hiding a bad attitude. Honestly, femmes. They like you until you're bonded and then after that they don't do anything but complain. Take my advice and don't ever get bonded." the mech said. "I mean, it's really nice, but it comes with a lot of scrap. So you said you move around a lot?"

"All over the place," Jazz said, glad for the change of subject. He shouldn't have asked—he'd held on to the hope, though, that there was some good reason. "Mostly northern hemisphere, though."

"I'm thinking of moving soon," Volks said. "I've only been here half a vorn, but it's getting really old. You been anywhere interesting lately?"

Jazz shrugged. "Define interesting."

"Different," the mech said. "Though crowds and a good nightlife are nice, always."

"Mech…"

"Yeah?"

"Don't ya ever feel like the scum of Cybertron, though?"

The mech looked at him curiously.

"Cuz ya leave everyone behind again and again?"

"No," the mech said. "It's not my fault I'm the way I am. It's not my fault if they don't understand me. I have to do what I have to do for my sanity, you know. If they have a problem with it, then that's _their_ problem."

If they were in a dark alleyway instead of this crowded energon bar...

"And it's not like I'm a bad mech. I've never killed anyone, never done anything really bad. I don't have anything to regret… you ok, Shadow?"

"Yeah," Jazz said.

Silence fell for an astrosecond.

He couldn't do this anymore. He got up. "I gotta go." He pushed away from the table and turned to walk away.

"It's raining out there," the mech said. Jazz hesitated, then kept walking, hoping the mech didn't follow him.

He stepped outside into the rain. It wasn't just raining, it was _really_ raining. The acid poured down through the air and hissed against the streets, sending up clouds of steam and making it hard to see anything. Jazz gave up walking after a few astroseconds and ran for the nearest stairway down to the lower levels as the torrent seared his paint off and stung his mesh. He made it down to the second level of the city, venting hard and drenched in steaming liquid. He welcomed the pain.

He should go back there and stand in the rain until it ate through him and made him one with the gutters.

"Are you ok?" someone asked. Jazz looked up to see a small group of mecha staring at him.

He smiled. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You're covered in acid. You should probably go to a hospital."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "I'll do that, thanks mech." He tried to brush some of the acid off of himself, but it took a lot of paint with it and he winced.

"Oh, Primus," the mech said. "Are you sure you're all right? We can comm. a medic, or enforcement or something."

"I'm fine," Jazz said, walking past them. They looked really concerned, but he didn't feel that bad.

Just in case they _did_ comm enforcement, he left the area and found his way to a dark, deserted alley on the third level of the city. He sat against the wall and wrapped his stinging arms around his legs, listening to the dripping sound of the rain trickling through cracks in the upper levels.

He'd always known, on some level. For vorns, a tiny part of him had always hoped that Volks had had a good reason for leaving, that something important had pulled him away, that he'd missed them, that he'd been sorry.

But that mech had never really cared—he'd really just left. Vibes had been just another pretty faceplate in a long string of affairs, and Jazz was just a byproduct, something to be forgotten and cast off when things stagnated and it was time to move on.

It shouldn't hurt this much. It shouldn't hurt more than the acid rain, not after all this time, but it did. And what hurt even more was that Jazz was just like him. Always running away, leaving everyone and everything behind again and again. Except that Jazz was worse. He left families broken too, but he did it by killing and stealing.

Suddenly angry, Jazz pulled a knife out of subspace and threw it at the wall across the alley. He threw another and another until they stuck out from the wall like a tiny sideways army.

Frustration spent, he pulled out his last knife and studied it.

Why should he keep doing this?

He could end everything right now.

He'd had these thoughts before, but there was always the prospect of finding something interesting to do next orn, meeting more mecha, discovering new mountains to climb.

If he killed himself, no one would care. No one would even know. Someone would find his sparkless husk in a few orns and comm. the enforcers, who would probably be able to identify him. They'd certainly be glad he was dead. One less criminal on the streets.

Most of the mecha who might care wouldn't ever find out.

And then he could stop doing this. He could stop wandering around and making a new set of fake friends every orn. He could stop running from everything he'd done and go to the Pits of the Inferno where he belonged—where he couldn't hurt anyone else.

He took a deep vent and gripped the knife harder.

He knew how to kill. Killing was easy. He'd done it more than a hundred times. He could do it once more.

He'd finally escape Quantum and Enforcement and everything else. He'd leave it all behind.

He was running away again.

Jazz un-shuttered his optics, stood, and threw the knife so hard it stuck into the wall all the way down to the hilt.

He couldn't run away again. He didn't _deserve_ to run away again. He'd been doing it his entire life—hiding from his problems, telling himself that it wasn't his fault he was acting out, blaming it on his mech creator or his situations, picking bad friends so there was no pressure to be good, no one to tell him no, no reason to try.

He shouldn't kill himself. He deserved to die, but he didn't deserve to be the one to do it.

He had to stop hiding.

That thought terrified him. He didn't want to face himself, didn't want anyone to know who he was or what he'd done. He wasn't strong enough for that. He took a deep, shaky vent, trembling, fighting the panic.

He couldn't stop running. He couldn't stop hiding.

The knives were still there.

But…

"Come on, mech," he said. "Ya can't do this. If ya do this ya can't go back. If ya do this, ya can't put anything right. If ya do this, ya'll be just like him. If ya don't wanna be like him, ya can't keep running away."

That mech never changed, and Jazz was so much like him in so many ways.

If he wanted to be different, he had to choose to be different.

He looked at the knives sticking out of the wall for a moment, and reached for one, just to take it with him, just because you didn't ever want to wander around without some sort of weapon.

He grabbed the hilt, but then let go of it again and stepped back.

No.

"No more killing," he said out loud. "No more running, no more hiding, no more killing. Ever. Again. I ain't gonna need these. I ain't gonna need these."

He turned and walked away, leaving them in the wall.

* * *

He walked for as long as he could. His whole frame still felt like it was on fire because of the rain. But that was a good thing, because he was also barely holding off panic, and the pain and fear almost cancelled each other out.

He made it halfway across the city before he couldn't take it anymore, and then he found an alleyway to spend the off-cycle in. Next orn was going to be the end, but he wasn't going to let himself back out. He knew what he needed to do.

When the sun came up, he went to Iacon. He drove, even though it took nearly all orn—in part _because_ it took nearly all orn. He got there just half a joor before dusk, exhausted and low on fuel. But the more he thought about using any of his stolen credit, the less he wanted to.

He drove in through an outer sector of the city, and to a place in a middle-ring sector. It was a respectable little neighborhood—the kind of place he generally avoided because conscientious neighbors would comm. enforcement if they saw suspicious characters like him lurking around.

Of course, if he put some effort into it, he was good at pretending not to be a suspicious character.

He didn't particularly care right now. If Enforcement caught him, he'd go quietly. That was part of his decision.

He broke into a small apartment on the third floor of a nice apartment building. He'd known about this place for a long time, but he hadn't come here because he knew he wouldn't be welcome.

He waited, sitting at the table, telling himself over and over again that he couldn't leave, that he _had_ to do this, that he _had_ to apologize, that he had to come back and face the mecha he'd hurt.

He ought to find _everyone_ he'd hurt and apologize to them all, but that would lead to too much temptation. He'd break and slip back into wandering and stealing and drinking and hiding.

He heard the front door open and braced himself as he listened to the approaching footsteps. He didn't look up as they stopped and he heard something drop to the floor.

The sound hadn't finished echoing before she spoke. "Ya got two breems ta get out before I comm. enforcement."

Jazz shuttered his optics. "That's ok," he mumbled. "Ya can comm. enfrorcement in two breems."

Silence.

"I'm sorry for comin' here," he said. "An' for breaking in. I just wanted ta tell ya…"

He heard her approach and then she sat down across from him and he finally looked up. As he'd feared, he could see the anger and disappointment and fear on her faceplate. She was afraid of him.

This was why he hadn't wanted to come.

"Well," she said. "Whatever the pit you want to say, you'd better say it quickly."

Jazz took a deep vent. "I'm sorry for all of it. For everything I put ya through when I was in school. I… it wasn't your fault, none of it. Ya taught me better. I was just too wrapped up in myself and trying ta make excuses… ya deserved better. That's why I'm here. I just wanted ta apologize, cuz ya did everything ya could for me and I disregarded it. I want ya ta know that I know that everything I did was my own fault. And I didn't want ya ta… ta not know what happened ta me. The least I can do is come here and let ya know."

Silence again.

"Look at me," she said, and her voice was softer. Jazz looked up.

"Sparklin' I need ta know ya're looking at me."

He hesitated, then retracted his visor, and held her optics for an astrosecond. It felt like she was staring right into him.

"Ya know," she said. "I really did believe in ya, Jazz. I thought ya'd do good things with your life. I worried so much, but I held onta that."

Jazz looked down at his hands.

"And ya've got some nerve coming here after all ya've done."

Jazz shuttered his optics, trembling.

After a few astroseconds, Vibes got up and dragged her chair around the table until it was right next to his. Then she sat again and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sparklin' ya're hurt," she said. "Were ya out in the rain?"

He sobbed.

"Jazz?"

He tried to calm down so he could tell her he was going to stop, that he was going to change if he got a chance, that he didn't want her to feel like she'd failed, that he wanted her to be happy, but he couldn't say anything.

She put an arm around his shoulders and leaned in close. "Jazz, sparklin' I'm sorry…"

"Stop," he sobbed. "Ya can't… Ya're supposed ta hate me."

"Oh, sparklin' I don't hate ya." She pulled him closer and he gave in. They held each other until they'd both stopped crying.

Then she let go of him and sat back. "So," she said. "What are ya gonna do now?"

Jazz smiled slightly. "Well, I can't take back all I did. There ain't no going back. It's too late ta turn around and say I'm just gonna be different. I shouldn't even be _here,_ cuz I'm putting ya in danger."

"So…"

"I'm done hiding," Jazz said. "And I'm done running. I'm gonna turn myself in." He glanced up. She was staring at him, looking shocked.

"And I should go." He got up and his visor came down to cover his optics again.

Vibes stood as well. "I don't think so," she said.

"I gotta," Jazz said. "I can't… there ain't nowhere else for me ta go. I don't want ta be the mech I've been for the past vorn, and if I go back out there…"

"From the sound of it, they've got enough on ya they could kill ya."

"I know," Jazz said. "They've got enough ta give me fifty death sentences. But Vibes, there's a reason for that."

She sighed.

He tried to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm. "Stay here," she said. "It's late and ya're probably tired. Ya can turn yourself in next orn after ya've had some recharge."

He hesitated.

"Ya _were_ out in the rain somewhere, and it don't look like ya washed off. Ya ain't leaving yet."

"Ok," Jazz said.

"There's some showers in the basement of the building," Vibes said. "Ya can wash of there and then come back ok?"

Jazz nodded and left.

A good portion of his paint came off with the acid residue, and it hurt like pit. He wished he'd found a public wash rack somewhere and cleaned off the orn before. He went back to Vibes' apartment. She was sitting at the table, sipping energon from a glowing square container. There was a cube for him as well. She set hers down as he walked over.

"Ya fool," she said. "I didn't realize it was that bad. Sit."

Jazz sat down and took the cube she'd set out for him while she got up and went to rummage through some cupboards.

"Don't drink that yet." Jazz waited and she brought over a little capsule and dropped it into his energon. Jazz watched as it dissolved. It was probably some sort of painkiller. He was pretty sure it wouldn't help. Most legal drugs weren't strong enough do much for him anymore.

He sipped the energon anyway, grimacing at the taste, and then drained it all.

"Ya need some paint. Don't ya dare leave while I'm gone."

She left and Jazz sat. The pain did actually back off a little, and he almost felt _good_.

Of course, he was still terrified because he was going to turn himself in. But that was almost a relief too. He was going to relinquish control of what happened to him. He was going to end up where he belonged—either in prison or offline.

And Vibes knew and she didn't hate him. She might not have forgiven him, but he really couldn't expect that from her.

So he was still there when she came back.

"Here," she said. "Come sit on the ground."

He did so and she sat behind him. "Ya can't turn yourself in like this."

"Nope," Jazz said. "Gotta look presentable."

She let out a little huff of laughter. "Any chance ya'll stay a few orns? Cuz it'd be better if we let your systems fix ya up a little before we paint ya. We can't take ya to a medic, can we?"

"Nah," Jazz said. "And I gotta go next orn. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Ok. This probably ain't gonna feel good, but I'll try ta be quick."

Jazz flinched when he felt cold, wet paint on the back of his shoulder.

"Ya ok?"

"Yeah," he said. "Just startled. It don't hurt that bad."

They sat in silence for almost a breem as she painted, but neither of them were quiet mecha and before long, they were chatting and joking, which was nice because it felt good and also helped him ignore the pain.

She asked him after a while about Quantum, and he told her some of it. It wasn't exactly a pleasant topic, but it was good to tell someone the truth. He left some things out of course, but by the end she knew more than he'd shared with anyone else.

When she was done she put away the paint she'd bought. "Well, it ain't professional, but it'll do. Now, we should probably give it a joor ta dry, and then ya can get some recharge."

"I really… should go."

She shook her helm.

"If ya must know, I'm scared I'll wake up and decide not ta do it."

"Just stay until the paint dries then," she said.

Jazz nodded.

But she'd gotten the better of him. He'd been driving all orn, and he was exhausted. He slipped into recharge within a joor.

* * *

Everything was dark when he came online again. He sat up quickly, reaching into subspace for a knife that wasn't there, before remembering where he was.

He sighed and got up. There was a cube of energon and a datapad on the table. Jazz tapped the datapad and it lit up with a note.

[Sparkling I don't expect you to be here when I get up. Neither of us are real good at goodbyes, so maybe it's better that way. I understand why you gotta do what you're gonna do. It must have been real hard to come back decide to turn yourself in. I want you to know that I'll remember this off-cycle , and that I'm so proud of you. I hope we meet again.

Love,

Vibes]

He took a deep vent and looked at the energon. He could definitely use it, but he was too nervous to drink it, so he just took it and put it back in the cupboard before he left.

He drove through the city to the nearest enforcement station, and walked in the front doors. A femme approached him.

"Excuse me," she said. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "My designation is Jazz. I'm an ex-member of a gang in Polyhex called Quantum. I think I'm wanted in a few city-states, probably this one too. I'm here ta turn myself in."

It was a very long orn, full of small rooms and questions and stasis cuffs and wondering how long the rest of his life was going to be. He cooperated, though and answered all of their questions, forcing himself to be truthful, even when it incriminated him further.

Overall, the nervousness was the worst thing. Stasis cuffs weren't comfortable, but they didn't really hurt. This was a thousand times better than turning himself in to Quantum would have been.

He spent that off-cycle alone in a prison cell, and the next orn they moved him to what he figured out was a high security prison. He was told that they still needed time to decide what they were going to do with him and that it might be a while before he'd know if he was going to get the death sentence.

And then they locked him up in a cell he wasn't sure he could get out of, even if he'd wanted to.

And they left him there to his own thoughts.


	16. Epilogue

Jazz counted down the astroseconds until a guard would come to bring him energon. He cared more about the guard than the fuel. Chances to interact with other living Cybertronians were rare and valuable. Even if they only exchanged a few words, it was better than the silence.

He could have escaped. He had come up with several plans for that, just to pass the time… well, just in case.

But for now, he would stay here.

They'd never gotten back to him about whether or not they were going to have him executed. Eventually, his anxiety about that had faded into boredom. But he'd weathered the boredom, trying to spend his time thinking, planning, solidifying his determination that if he ever _did_ get out of here, he wasn't going to go back to what he'd done before.

Maybe when he was convinced of that, he'd let himself escape.

The room was completely soundproof, so he couldn't hear footsteps outside, but he knew down to the breem when the guards would come. Sometimes he could guess the astrosecond, depending on who was on duty. He knew their schedules. Most of the punctual ones weren't very talkative, but a few of the mechs who were usually a breem late were willing to have short conversations with him.

There was still about a joor, but he was already excited because the mech who was supposed to be on duty this orn was one of the talkative ones.

They didn't feed him that much, but he didn't need much, not when all he was doing was sitting in a cell. They never opened the door either—there was a small window in it that would slide aside, and they'd carefully pass him his energon, while he tried to make conversation.

He counted down astroseconds.

And then the whole door opened.

Several escape plans ran through his helm and he looked up sharply as three guards stepped in.

He didn't recognize any of them but he let them put stasis-cuffs on him and lead him out into the hall where the prison warden and two more guards were waiting.

"Where we goin'?" Jazz asked lightly. Fighting his way out at this point would be hard. He hoped they hadn't decided to execute him.

"You've got a visitor," the warden said, looking decidedly unhappy.

So probably not execution.

Curious, Jazz let them walk him down the hall and to another room with two chairs and a table. The guards forced him into the chair and restrained him there.

He waited as they left and tried to listen to the muttered conversation out in the hallway.

Then an important-looking mech with Council markings on his shoulders came in and sat down across the small table.

"Good orn," the mech said. "Jazz, is it?"

"Yes," Jazz said, intrigued. "And you?"

"Senator Decimus, of the Iacon Council," the mech said.

A senator. This was getting more and more interesting. "Honored ta meet ya, mech," Jazz said. "I suppose ya got some questions or something?"

"Actually, I have a proposition," the senator said. "We'd like to offer you an… opportunity."

The mech wanted him to work for the government? Jazz was pretty sure that wouldn't fit into his plans to _not_ go back to being the kind of mech he'd been before prison. He didn't say anything.

"It has been decided in the courts that you are worthy of execution."

No surprise there. And pretty good leverage if this mech wanted something from him.

"And your sentence will be carried out within the decaorn."

Which gave him a good time frame to enact and escape plan if it came down to it. But it sounded like he might not have to.

"However, we are willing to offer you another option."

"What kinda option?" Jazz asked. "Are ya offering me a job, mech?"

"Yes," the senator said. "I am."

Jazz frowned, considering. It would probably be _much_ easier to escape from a government job than a high security prison. Still… "Well," he said. "I don't wanna die. What's the job?"

The mech pulled out a datapad. "You've been in here, so you wouldn't know. But we've been having some trouble with a resistance group. Most of the time, we can neutralize them without a problem, but this one is proving more difficult. We have some guesses about who might be involved, but only a few known mecha, and those are too well-protected for us to openly arrest."

"Hmm…" Jazz said.

"Also, we've made several attempts to infiltrate, but none of our agents have been successful."

"None?"

"We've sent dozens. No one could get in."

This was too intriguing, too tempting. "Ya have any idea why?"

"We think we've got it figured out," the mech said, and slid the datapad over to his side of the table so he could read it. Jazz skimmed the list of known members, optics widening.

"We need your experience, and your skill," the senator continued.

This was different—this changed things. It was no wonder they couldn't sneak into the resistance. "Hmm…" Jazz said. "What makes ya think I can do this where others have failed?"

"Did you recognize any designations on that list?"

Jazz looked up. "Soundwave."

"If reports are true, you've gotten the better of him before."

Jazz nodded.

"Do you think you can get in?"

This would be even more of a challenge than helping mecha escape from Quantum. He wasn't even sure he could do it, at least not for long. Maybe, if he was very careful… Then again, that wasn't what he wanted to do with his life. "I'll need more info, but I probably could."

"We would provide that," the senator said, pulling the datapad back toward himself again and subspacing it. "First I'll need you to sign a contract. We'll work out the legalities and specifications in detail later. But if you are successful, we'll allow you to continue to work for us instead of coming back here to face your sentence."

Jazz wasn't going to work for the government. He could let them do the hard work involved in breaking him out of jail, though.

"Well?" the senator said.

The government could set him free, but he owed them no loyalty or honesty. Besides, he wasn't about to help them take down a resistance movement that was pushing for much-needed social reform. As soon as he was under open sky, he'd disappear. Then again, the lure of this challenge was very tempting. Maybe he could do better than just leave the rebellion alone. If they were willing to trust him, they could probably use his help.

"Ok, mech," Jazz said. "I'll do it."

...

THE END

* * *

Notes:

1\. And that's it for this one. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! :)

2\. I'd also like to thank my fantastic beta readers for helping me turn this train wreck of a story into something that almost made sense. Without their input the exposition would have been twice as long, the climax would have happened somewhere around the halfway point, and the prose would have been riddled with typos and badly worded sentences. Also, without their encouragement, I probably would have given up on the whole thing.

3\. As you may have noticed, this epilogue ties Jazz's journey back in with Many Voices. Jazz will show up there again in chapter 72. :)


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